


A Garden of Rose Quartzs

by FallenAquarian



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Erebor Never Fell, BAMF Bilbo, BAMF Thorin, Changed the Timeline, Dwarf Courting, Hobbit Courting, Hobbits and Darrows Have the Same Lifespan, Mild Gore, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Superhuman Powers, Young Fíli and Kíli, Young Ori
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-02-19 15:58:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 60,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2394380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenAquarian/pseuds/FallenAquarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Valar had decided they wouldn't interfere in the lives of those of Middle Earth. But that changed when Melkor's protege, Sauron, started causing mayhem. They interfered, creating souls weaved together with a piece of their grace to stop the evils plaguing Middle Earth and continued to do so whenever something new arises.</p><p>Decades after peace had been established, the Valar created two new souls--a Dwarf and a Hobbit--to aid in ridding the world of a minor pest that lingered and heal the damage he caused. </p><p>They just never expected the two to fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crystallize

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have read a lot of Fic with Bilbo having powers and decided to write my own. Hope you guys like it :)

For as long Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, could remember, the story of the Valar's Helpers or the Blessed Ones, as most referred them as, had always intrigued him insofar as he would neglect his studies on many occasions so he could hide himself in the Great Library of Erebor, reading any and all accounts retelling the tales of how these Blessed Ones came into being and more importantly--why.

Thorin's quest for tales of these magnificent heroes of Middle Earth to satisfy his childlike desire for everything encompassing valor and vigor had sparked quite the uproar in the Lonely Mountain. Many a times, his guards would start a panic because their young prince would somehow evade their watchful eyes and would foolishly run the halls of Erebor, unattended. Thorin had thought they were the foolish ones. Had they allowed him to have his studies in the Great Library, no panic and threats of shaved beards would be necessary. Had they let him read just one story before his studies, his prissy tutors would have one less thing to worry about. Then again, they would have found something else to fuss about.

His father would constantly berate his mother, Dimia, daughter of Farár, for telling him those stories. And if Thorin didn't need another reason to love his mother, she would unabashedly roll her eyes at her husband and tell him she did nothing the precious tutors he assigned wouldn't do: her son was expected to know the great warriors of Middle Earth and of combat, and she had gifted the knowledge on both unto him. Her words were filled with every bit of sarcasm and contempt her robust body could muster up that it had his father scowling mightily at her. His mother's abhorrence of using violence to solve any problem was widely known throughout the kingdom. Thorin and many others were immensely appreciative of her stance on violence. It had saved many Dwarfs their lives.

It was also because of the princess that the Elves and the Dwarrows of Erebor had avoided war for this long, seeing as all diplomatic endeavors were discussed between his mother and Elves. And she was the one who made constant trips to Greenwood and Rivendell to secure trade and peace treaties and prevent any duels. Because the Elves certainly didn't rely on brute strength to settle a dispute.

Ultimately, his mother graciously promised his father she would handle their 'dilemma.' She stuck a bargain with Thorin: he learned how to one day rule the kingdom with the wisdom and wit Mahal had gifted him with, and she would read him the stories he loved so dearly whenever he so wished her to. Thorin was quick to accept and thus started a tradition where his mother would read to him the stories of the lives of the Blessed Ones--a tradition that grew to include Frerin, when he was old enough to retain the information being bestowed on to him and when he wasn't too busy charming all around him.

Thorin's most loved stories was the origins of the Blessed Ones, for when they came about they were all born on the same day. It happened in the days when Sauron rose to power and wreaked havoc on all of Middle Earth. The Valar feared for the lives of the inhabitants of Middle Earth and collectively decided that if Melkor could give this dark lord a part of his very essence, why couldn't they? One by one, they went to Vairë, The Weaver, and had her weave a part of their grace with a soul of their choosing to be sent to Arda to vanquish Sauron.

Manwë, the King, chose the Great Eagle, Harindor, to aid in the fight for Middle Earth against the dark creatures of the sky. Ulmo, Lord of the Waters, chose a Man by the name of Aromir to destroy the forces that came by the water. Mahal, the Smith, chose the Dwarf, Kilör, son of Thrri, to weed out the forces that hid themselves in the mountains. Oromë, the Huntsman, chose the Elf, Lavanor, as his champion, to track and kill those sent to kill the Blessed Ones. Lórien, the Master of Visions and Dreams, chose a Man, Drasír, and gifted him with the ability to see what had yet to come. And Tulkas, the Champion, chose a Dwarf, Bolkk, son of Gomak, as his champion to battle the creatures on foot.

Varda, the Queen, chose an Elf, Coneth, to give light to Middle Earth, to cut through the darkness that surrounded it. Yavanna, Queen of the Earth and Giver of Fruits, chose the Ent, Oakeye, and gave him command over the forest, so he may bar entreat to those vile creatures seeking the forest as refuge. Estë, the Gentle, chose a Hobbit, Primrose Fireflower, to heal to injured.

Together, they were able to decimate Sauron's army and ultimately bring about his downfall. Those who were not at the site where the skirmish went into hiding until most of them were found and killed by some of the Blessed Ones. Coneth did what she was meant to do and cleared the darkness shrouding Middle Earth to allow the sunlight. Oakeye, with the help of Kilör, leveled the land and gave rise to new plants, and Oakeye called the animals of Middle Earth out of hiding back to their homes. Harindor and Aromir purified the air and the waters, respectively.

Following the downfall of Sauron, the inhabitants of Middle Earth lived in peace for several centuries until words of Orcs and Goblins amassing armies began to crop up. Sauron was still alive. It was also at that time a certain man by the name of Salimon came upon a certain ring: the One Ring. Luckily for the people of Middle Earth, Salimon was Tulkas second chosen Helper, weaved together to find and destroyed the One Ring. With the help of a small group, consisting of an Elf, a Dwarf and a Skinchanger, he stole away into the night to trudge through Mordor to Mount Doom. Due to his inhuman strength, his company and he were able to reach Mount Doom in a short amount of time and finally put a stop to the evil plaguing Middle Earth. The Company of Salimon did not survive the journey, but they would forever be remembered as heroes of Middle Earth.

However, peace was not yet achieved. Darkness still hung in around Middle Earth, especially Greenwood. Another Helper-- a Blessed One--was needed. She came in the form of an Elf, Mistil, who fought the evil permeating the trees of Greenwood then went on to spreading her light all throughout Middle Earth. She was perhaps the only one of the Blessed Ones who felt the pull to the wilds instead of staying in their home realm.

Regardless of her wandering ways, peace was finally achieved, or something close to peace. There were still those who killed and started war, but thankfully those were far apart and contained to each individual race. Thorin would like to believe that was due to the fact many were aware of the destruction evil had caused and had no interest in creating another Sauron. But Overall, peace was something that existed in Middle Earth.

And one prince was given the privilege to lie safely in bed while his mother read him the story of the great Helpers of Middle Earth. If Thorin was entirely honest with himself, it wasn't his mother's soothing voice or the way her golden hair hair felt in his hand, or the way her emerald eyes reflected the light from the fireplace, or her soft smiles that made him feel safe. It was the stories themselves. Every words out of her mouth seeped through his skin to seek out some deep, secret part of him. They soothe over this hidden part of him, relaxing him with every syllable. It comforted this restless part of him that kept telling him 'Soon.'

"Thorin, get up," his mother's stern voice drew him out of his mind. He was lounging in bed with his eyes closed, eyes that didn't open when she stepped into his room. She had only roused him from sleep when there was something important occurring, or when he had plenty to do, and she knew very well he would neglect to do them to spar with Dwalin. He was just in his teens. Surely, she would understand his need to use his hands instead of his mind once in a while?

Also, what a queer time to think about the stories his mother had read to him as a child?

"Thorin." Her voice was closer this time. "You need to get up." The light behind his eyelids dimmed slightly.

His eyes finally opened to see her worried face peering down at him. Oh, wait, that was the reason he was recollecting the stories from his childhood. He had hoped theses stories would have the same desired effect they had on him as a child: they would soothe the restlessness inside of him.

"Couldn't sleep," he quietly told her as she smoothed back his hair with a small, fond smile on her face. He softly whined and turned his face, garnering the desire effect when she cupped his face with her free hand. He nuzzled her hand.

"I would insist you stay in bed," she said, "but I am not the one who decided to put off his studies until they piled up." He whined some more, not at all amused by her teasing tone. Though his headache and anxiety had tempered down a bit due to her soft touches. Her warm and comforting presence was suddenly gone. "Get up, Thorin," she commanded again as he turned to see her gliding towards his wardrobe, "before your brother and sister decide to rouse you themselves."

Thorin shamelessly groaned and buried his face into his pillow. He loved his brother and sister dearly, but they were a menace before luncheon. Frerin with his endless stories of whom he batted his eyelashes at to do his bidding, even though he was a prince and could get many people to do what he wanted regardless. And Dís with her endless questions about everything. Thorin didn't know what he did to deserve her never ending stream of questions, which she felt he had the answers to and not Amad or Adad--or even Frerin!

"Thorin." Thorin flinched before flinging himself out of bed. He knew that tone very well. She had used it many times on his father when he was about to insult an Elf diplomat, and she wanted him out of the room. It was the same tone that promised she would drag his father out of the room by his ears, crowned prince or not. His grandfather had learned early on to keep his mouth shut on these meetings.

"Here," she said, handing him a pair of black trousers and a deep-blue tunic. "You're armor is on the couch." She inclined her head to the left, and his eyes dutifully followed her head to the couch in front of the fireplace where his light-armor was draped on the back of it. "Your tutors will be up soon."

He took the offered clothes from her, and then she was off, to no doubt get Frerin and Dís ready for the day. Thorin firmly ignored the part that told him he was the first because he was always the most difficult to get out of bed. At a lethargic pace, Thorin got himself to ready, hoping the passing time would wake him up enough to push down uneasiness he felt. It didn't help but persisted when his breakfast and tutors got to his chambers.

It wasn't until later that things changed. The uneasiness stopped, and his sudden change in demeanor must have shown because his two stout, gray-haired, gray-bearded tutors paused. Thorin shouldn't have been surprised since they were watching him like hawks from the moment they stepped into his room, his mother's doing no doubt.

Thorin smiled reassuringly at them, while his insides were heating up. The hidden part he believed he had in him as a child due to childish fancy and imagination rose up from inside him, starting from the tip of the left middle finger up his left arm then spreading to his right side. Thorin felt like a gem deep with the mountain, where a new layer of quartz was formed over the existing layers. The last part to be affected by this strange change was his mind, the part of him his mother had told him to guard with all his might. The crystallizing sensation slowly clawed its way up his neck, and Thorin was paralyzed, just left to feel as this strange force solidified around his head and mind.

Then everything was gone: no strange feeling deep inside, no queer presence crystallizing within him. Nothing. Everything thing was still within him. Thorin felt calm inside, very much like how he would after a rigorous training session. Maybe that was why he didn't question why he was standing in the training room with his sword pointing at Dwalin's throat as Dwalin scowled ferociously up at him while his brother and sister cheered for him.

The gloating words rose up inside him but a throat clearing stopped him. His head snapped up to the doorway where a young guard was standing.

"Excuse me, your majesties," he quickly bowed his head to the three of them then to Dwalin. "Master Dwalin." Dwalin merely grunted. "The king request your presence in his chambers at once. Just the three of you."

"What's the matter?" Frerin was quick to ask, worried.

"You mother said it is nothing to worry about," he hastily reassured him. Thorin thought if he didn't want them to panic he should have started with it was message from their mother. Any news, troubling or not, had to go through her before it made it to their ears. And she would have come herself if it was anything pressing. 

"Inform my grandfather we will be there shortly," Thorin said to the guard, who bowed to them each once again before scurrying off. He must be new. One bow was enough. Thorin looked down at Dwalin with a raised eyebrow. Dwalin shrugged as much as he could with a sword still at his throat. Thorin swiftly removed the sword and helped Dwalin to his feet.

Dwalin took the sword from him and nodded towards the door. "You better hurry before his majesty sends the entire royal guards," he joked.

Thorin smirked at him. "And that would be such an inconvenience to you." Dwalin glared at him with painted cheeks. Since they could talk, Thorin had listened to his cousin talk about becoming a royal guard. It was only when he was older that Dwalin took to trailing after the guards, listening to their tales and making friends--hoping one of them would take him on as an apprentice when he came of age. Nothing would make Thorin happier than to see his dear friend become a royal guard and possibly his personal bodyguard.

With another quick smile, Thorin head to his grandfather's chambers with his whispering siblings behind him. They weren't the only ones. Countless maids and workers of Erebor were rushing about whispering to themselves, many almost forget to bow to them, so caught up in what had the kingdom buzzing. The guards bowed and let them in. And as to be expected the king's sitting room was larger than the size of his room. On the left side of the room were two large fireplaces and a large circular rug in front of them with six sofas forming in a semicircle around the rug. The floors were polished black marble, as were the walls, expect the wall have the creation of the Dwarfs carved into them in gold and silver. In front of Thorin was a dark-brown couch where his parents and grandfather were sitting on. Their faces far out shine the light coming from the massive fireplaces.

No, it wasn't their happiness that made their faces glow--it was the small sphere on a small red cushion in his grandfather's hands that brightened their faces. The sphere looked about the size of his palm and was smooth on the surface but looked like it had the pattern of a snake skin underneath the surface. And swirling around those scales were every color Thorin could list off the top of his head and then some.

Thorin was about to lose his breakfast. Right in front of the elders of his family with his siblings peaking around his sides.

His mother was the first to notice something amiss when she cautiously said, "Thorin?" like he might keeled over right here and now.

"Isn't it marvelous, my boy?" his grandfather fervently asked, holding up the cushion with a wonderstruck look on his face.

No. No, it wasn't. It was a vile, sick piece of rock. All its shine and luster were gone, leaving a black rock that appeared to have a black goo in it that was bubbling. The light it once gave off turned to a dark putrid smoke that was trying to enter his nostril but to no anvil. Every part of Thorin was urging him to get his family as far away as possible.

"It's beautiful," he tightly lied.

"Yeah!" Frerin excitedly shouted, pushing him out of the way as Dís and he scampered over to their grandfather, whose smile grew wider as the three of them gushed over the stone as if it was a newborn a babe. Thorin didn't think he could get sicker, but the rising bile in his mouth told him otherwise.

Thorin's eyes were glued to the only rock in existence he had ever hated that he didn't notice his mother coming up to him until she cupped his face and turned his head to look at her severely worried one.

"I'm fine, Amad," Thorin assured her, never mind she didn't utter a single word. "I'm still a little tired." She didn't believed a word he said, if her frowning was anything to go by. Thorin cupped her hand in one of his and smiled as reassuringly as he could before separating from her to stride over to his other family members. "Where did you find it?"

His father was the one to answer. His grandfather didn't take his eyes off the stone. "In one of the deepest tunnels. The one blocked off by that obsidian wall. You remembers that one? And it was founded by your grandfather, not me."

Thorin distractedly nodded. He had heard of it. Being the third in line for the throne and less trained in mining, he was not allowed to go that deep into the mountain. Not that he ever would. There was always something about going deeper into that scared him. Thorin guessed he knew why now, even though he didn't know why he was feeling any of these things--why he was now seeing black instead of the rainbows he saw when he first looked upon the stone?

"When are we going to put it in the treasury?" Thorin impatiently asked because he wanted the stone as far away from him at the soonest possible time and to stop his siblings form fawning over the stone. Frerin was supposed to fawn over sweets and women while Dís was supposed to fawn over things pertaining to strategy, not a mere rock. It felt unnatural to Thorin. Everything about this felt unnatural to him.

"Are you mad?!" the king hissed, drawing back and clutching the stone stone to his chest, cushion forgotten on the floor. Thorin's father was on his feet in seconds with Thorin protectively behind him. "This is a gift from Mahal himself! It shouldn't be hidden! It should be for all to see our divine right to rule! For surely, this--" he held the stone up his to the point where Thorin saw the stone and not his face, "--magnificent gem is proof that the Durin line was meant to rule!"

Frerin and Dís were no longer with their grandfather but with their mother as the king gazed up at the stone. Before His grandfather hid his face behind the stone, Thorin saw those icy-blue Durin eyes darkened as his grandfather gazed onto the stone with a look that one reserved for when he or she was worshiping their creator.

"Father?" his father hesitantly said, and the stone was gone was no longer obstructing the king's face. Looking up at them was a man who had a look on his face that suggested that he had just come up with the perfect solution to a problem that had plagued him for decades.

"The throne!" He shot out of his seat. "It should be above the throne, so all could see." His grandfather rushed to the door, ignoring his son's calls to him.

"I need to bathe," Thorin curtly said. "I shall see you all at dinner." He then quickly strode out of the room, ignoring the calls after him. The thing was he never did see them at dinner nor could he wash the filth off his skin. After his unsuccessful bath, he had his dinner in his chamber and forbid anyone from entering, claiming he was ill. He had even convinced Óin to inform everyone that he was indeed ill as an extra precaution. But his chambers didn't offer him the comfort he was looking for, which was why his mother found his in Dís's chamber, tucking her in and kissing her forehead. Thorin's mother keep quiet and sat on the bed, picking up the blue leather bound book and raising her eyebrow at him. There were tales of the Blessed Ones. The stories didn't help. He still felt nothing inside besides his hatred for the stone.

"Dís picked it out," he lied. She gave him an unimpressed face. Thorin should be glad he couldn't lie to his mother, but right now he wanted that ability, so they wouldn't have to discuss his behavior. "He put it in the throne room, didn't he?" Thorin quickly said when she opened her mouth.

She glared at him, irritated, but answered sounding quite resigned. "He did, but--"

"When you look at it what do you see?" Thorin rudely interrupted her.

She ignored his rudeness to mull over her words before answering. "I see a stone that shines with colors I didn't think existed." She sounded so bewildered by this, and Thorin relaxed then collapsed onto Dís bed, enough to shake the bed but not enough to wake her up.

He looked up to her and tiredly said, "I see black. I see a stone filled with black goo that gives off a dark haze the quickly fills up a room." He had been wrong earlier--it wasn't smoke. Smoke disappeared over time. This haze lingered and spread out.

His mother narrowed her eyes on his with an assessing look on her face. She could assess him all she wanted: she wouldn't find a single lie. She drew back after a time with a troubled look on her face. "How?" she insistently whispered.

"I don't know," he harshly whispered, feeling anger bubbling up. It was better than hatred and disgust, but not as welcomed as comfort would have been but was still denied.

"Thorin," she admonished, forcing him to get a hold of his anger.

"Sorry."

"Are you sure?" He glared at him, and she glared back. While cowering, Thorin hoped he really did inherit her glare as many had told him.

"Yes, I am," he said.

"Maybe you're mistaken," she helpfully suggested. Though he could she she wasn't so convinced herself.

"I hope so," he fervidly told her. "I hope I really am tired, and this is a trick of the mind."

She rested her hand on his. "Maybe we all had a long day and need a bit of rest." She sympathetically squeezed his hand. He could see how conflicted and worried she was. Part of her wanted to believe everything was right while the overly rational part of her was telling her that he wouldn't lie to her. Either way this turned out, something was wrong. Either this stone was dangerous, or something was wrong with him. "Tomorrow will be better. You'll see."

Things didn't get better the next day, or the next, or the years that followed. It got worse. His grandfather took to spending more time in the throne room admiring the Arkenstone, as it became to be known as, for hours on end. He was heavily taxing the citizens of Erebor and taking more of the jewels found for himself. When things couldn't get more terrible, his father was slipping into the same sickness, as it became known to Thorin as. And Thorin called it a 'sickness' because the dark haze was not only coming from the stone but from the two of them as well. His father's eyes were getting darker. His grandfather's had already gone black.

His mother had accounted it  to growing older.

"Eyes get lighter with age," he had told her, and that was the end of that conversion. And the two of them took to looking at the stone above the throne with two very different reaction: him with hatred and disgust, and her with concern and disbelief. Thorin was glad he couldn't see the beauty they saw for he was sure he would have fell into the sickness like the two he shared blood with.

Thorin's coming of age came and went, and if it wasn't for his mother, there wouldn't have been a celebration. Though it wasn't much of a celebration since his mother and he would constantly place themselves in front of his grandfather's wrath to save their citizens and Dís and Frerin, who were always to first to feel their grandfather's ire.

When it came time for his first patrol at the ripe age of sixty-one, they were nowhere to be seen.

"He'll come," his mother ardently promised him, holding onto the reins of his horse, a beautiful black steed, to stop him from trotting off with the  five warriors he handpicked. Dwalin was dutifully next to him on his own horse, a caramel colored steed. He had accomplished his dream and became a royal guard and Thorin's bodyguard.

Thorin looked down at her and his stony expression slipped. She wasn't promising him. She was promising her self. He lightly shook his head at her, and her face got downcast, adding more lines to her face and casting the shadows on her face wider. She defeatedly let go of the reins, and he rode off, not wanting to see anymore of her defeated composure. 

He wasn't coming, too busy counting the gold the two of them had collected. Nothing had changed as time progressed.

The only thing that had changed was that the crystallizing feeling was back, adding multiple layers this time to the point where the skin he was wearing no longer felt right.

Thorin pushed the horse to the point where he was breezing through Dale and heading East of Erebor to where the fields that fed both Dale and Erebor were. There were accounts from farmers claiming the have spotted Orcs stealing crops. The remaining Orcs that have survived must be desperate if they were coming out of hiding to steal greens. They must have gotten sick of eating their own kind. Whatever their reason were, this proved to be just the perfect opportunity for Thorin to set out on his first organized patrol, no longer did he have to rely on the leadership of someone else. Plus, he was given the chance to slay some of the remaining filth lingering in Middle Earth. He wasn't blessed by any means, but he could do this. 

And it was far away for the mountain.

Soon the fields came into view. There were rows and rows of vegetation that went on for a few miles. They were going to need more if the population of Man and Dwarf continued to grow. Granted one grew quicker the other, but still an important concern.

"Three of you that way," Thorin instructed pointing south. "And we'll meet up on the other side then switch." Thorin didn't wait for a confirmation and took off North at an amble pace with Dwalin drawing up to him until the were shoulder to shoulder, well as close as the could get. Dwalin was silent and Thorin was extremely grateful for that.

He was greatly disappointed when they spotted on Orcs on either time the converged. Even though, he should be happy. No Orcs meant the rumors were false, or the Orcs had died, or they went back into hiding. He was disappointed because he was itching to kill something, or more precisely, his second skin was calling for blood. Maybe Dwalin--

"What's that?!" one of the guards shouted, snapping him out of his reverie. Thorin followed the finger of the worried guard to spot a red spec in the distance, rapidly advancing towards the mountain.

His second skin heated up the very second a line of orange light shot from the red spec, impacting the ground and spreading out, no longer orange but a mix of yellow, orange and red.

Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, saw fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I messed around with the ages and stuff. Thorin and Dwalin are the same ages. Dis and Frerin aren't that far apart.


	2. Scorching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smaug the Terrible shows his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy and thanks for the support so far :)

The steady stream of orange only got wider as this....thing approached. The flames it created in a distance got wider and higher, not only spreading forward but back as well. Thorin had a moment to feel relieved but it was quickly swept away by the warm summer air before another steady stream of orange resumed its onslaught onto the earth, far more wider and intense this time.

Thorin and his patrol was then hit by a wave of scorching air, or what he assumed was scorching air judging by the way his men hissed and frantically pulled their horses back. Thorin second layer of skin simply sang when the current of air hit him, pulling him closer to the fire--telling him to not be afraid.

It was only when the flames reached the edge of the fields that Thorin's pleasure gave way to dread. ' _No_ ,' he despairingly thought at both the flames and what he saw in the distance. A Firedrake. A creature that was thought to be extinct--wiped out by the Great Eagle, Harindor. These vicious creatures of air and fire were meant to gone from the face of this earth. It was only the ringing of his second skin that drew Thorin out of his stupor. Everything was desperately telling him he needed to do something. But first...

"Dwalin, take the men back to Dale and warn their king then send word to my mother!" Thorin roared his command over the ringing in his ears. It was always his head that felt the change in his body last.

"Thor--"

"As your prince, you will do as I command!" Thorin viciously shouted at his friend. He would apologize later...if he survived. But the need for blood and to be closer to the flames was an incessant roar everywhere throughout his body. And he gravely knew he needed to get his men and his friend out of here. Thorin had no idea why but it was a great necessity. "I'll keep the Drake busy."

"Yes, your majesty," Dwalin sneered, and Thorin bit down the urge to flinch. It was then that a hand seized hold of his hair, and his head was firmly pulled down and impacted with another forehead, but he felt a bare twinge.

"Don't do anything stupid," Dwalin tightly commanded, eyes glossing over but not from the red glow the night took on.

Thorin drew his head back and uproariously laughed, a tad bit hysterical. What he was about to do was perhaps the most idiotic thing he had even done in his brief life. Thorin didn't specifically respond to his plea, and by the drop of Dwalin's face, Thorin knew he didn't need one, and he expected as much from Thorin. He had bear witness to how often Thorin had placed himself in front of a mad king to save his citizen. So Thorin shouldn't be surprised Dwalin knew he would put himself in front of a Firedrake for his people.

With a brisk nod, Dwalin reluctantly dashed off, leaving Thorin alone. Thorin firmly stood there watching their retreating back until the air nearly pushed him off his horse. He quickly got off his horse, unsheathed his sword, and released his horse. There was no use in both of them dying because of what foolishness he was about to do. With one last deep slow breath, Thorin turned to face the destruction. Half of the fields was being consumed by flames, and the Drake was hovering over them. Dwarrows may not have been gifted with keen eyes above ground, but Thorin didn't need keen eyesight to know the Drake was staring right at him. Thorin determinedly held his ground as his insides happily sang as more hate assaulted his body and as the flames inched closer to him.

The Drake steadily climbed higher before changing trajectory and shooting towards him at a breakneck speed. Thorin raised his sword in front of his face as a vacuous challenge, half-expecting the Drake to attack. The Drake, however, landed feet away from him, flapping its gigantic and nearly sending him flying, but Thorin stood firm like a pillar. However, Thorin had to draw both of his arms in front of his face to prevent flying debris from entering his eyes.

The absence of wind didn't cause him to drop his arms, what caused him to drop his arms were the loud laughs coming from the Dragon. Thorin stared disbelievingly as this monstrous creature laughed and laughed, its bright red scales giving off an unearthly glow that was unlike any fires Thorin had ever witnessed. The creature's teeth were the size of one of his arms and painted in a red tint. Thorin strongly believed had this creature not been increasingly surrounded by flames, it teeth would shine like pearl. The creature's claws and talons were half of his size, and they glistened. Its wingspan was half of the size of the field it was standing in.

What should have inspired _fear_ in some and _awe_ in others inspired hatred in Thorin. His insides were viciously hissing at the amused beast in front of him while his second skin was pushing against the first, incessantly itching to draw blood. Thorin saw red in more ways that one.

"You foolish Dwarf!" the Drake laughingly said. "You dare challenge me?! Smaug the Terrible?!" The laugh the Drake--Smaug--let out shook the surrounding land.

Thorin stood unmoving like the very mountain he herald from. And would continue to stand, a part whispered to him. "I dare," Thorin menacingly growled.

The laughing abruptly stopped and the Dragon lowered its head to peer down him with golden eyes. Intrigue and pity danced in those pools of gold before the Dragon sneered. "You truly are foolish like the rest of your species. Run Dwarf and maybe I'll spare you life."

Now, it was Thorin's turn to laugh. "I need not your advice nor your mercy, filth," Thorin spat and watched as those pools of gold turned to molten lava.

"Filth?!" Smaug roared, sending hot breath towards him, almost making him gag from the stench. "I am not the one who locks himself in mountains, so he could roll around in dirt!"

"We look for precious gems and metal, foul beast," Thorin haughtily said, his insides egging him on, urging him to anger the beast before him. For whatever reason, he didn't know.

The Drake smugly laughed. "My precious gems!" he then shrieked, claws digging into the ground. But Thorin felt no tremors. "My precious metals! Calling to me! Mine!"

"What?" Thorin said, confused, as everything around him and inside him went quiet.

The Dragon then mockingly laughed at him. "Stupid Dwarf, unconcerned of everything that doesn't glitter and shine. The precious gems and metal you worship so calls to my kind! They lure us to them with their scent! And you have a mountain full of it! Just waiting there to be worshiped by one who can truly appreciate them! One whose heart beats only for all that glitters and shines! They are crying out to me in despair with their scent getting stronger!" Smaug was experiencing his own form of despair in front of Thorin, face contorting in grief and pain.

"We don't--" Thorin suddenly cut himself off his denial. They did horde all the gems and gold they found. Precious metals and jems that would normally be crafted into jewelry and weapons and tools and sold off or traded for food was being pilled up in the treasury, collecting dust. No, not collecting dust, because his father and grandfather were always in there polishing something--worshiping it.

Thorin's widening eyes had Smaug roaring with laughter, shaking everything around him, and Thorin's stony composure faltered while his mind was telling him to hold on.

"Run Dwarf," Smaug then softly said, shocking him. "Save yourself. Be the last of your species."

Thorin audibly growled at the Dragon and held on tighter to his sword. His mind supplied him with imagines of his mother reading to him, his sister asking him to brush her hair while asking him a myriad of questions, his brother stuffing his face with cakes, icing smearing his cheeks, his father sitting him on his shoulder as he showed him the kingdoms, his grandfather ruffling his hair whenever he was studying as a child.

His mind then supplied him with a flashback of something flashing in Smaug's eyes. Smaug had no intention of letting him live. And Thorin had no intention of dying a coward. He took up the same stance he had before Smaug landed.

Smaug derisively snorted, and Thorin charged, body singing as his mind hoped he gave Dwalin enough time to warn his mother and start the evacuation. Smaug's left wing twisted and swatted him in the chest, sending him flying as the wind vacated his body.

Thorin impacted with the ground, sending out a resounding thud, cutting through the crackling of burning wood and shrubs. Smaug let out a mighty roar before securely pinning Thorin with one of its massive claws in one go. Thorin wildly thrashed about, trying foolishly to get Smaug to move his claw long enough for him to get his sword, which fell a short distance away.

"You should have ran," he menacingly sneered, opening his great mouth and bathing Thorin in scorching flames.

Thorin was ready to scream, but it never came out, much like how the heat and pain at having one's flesh burned off never came. Thorin opened the eyes he never knew he closed and widened them as he watched his clothes and armor incinerate before him. And just like that the flames and everything he was wearing were gone. Thorin looked up to match his disbelieving face with Smaug's.

Smaug slowly closed his mouth and pressed Thorin deeper into the ground. Thorin smirked up at him when he felt no pain while his brain was trying to grapple with what was happening and trying to find some logical reason for this. Smaug roared at him causing his hair to push back before the flames were back, intenser but with no heat. Against his better judgment, Thorin keep his eyes opened and gasped in amazement, taking in some of the flames that didn't burn his throat, as he watched his skin shriveled up then burned away like years old parchment would when lit: instantaneous and with little remnants.

He was smelting.

Thorin swerved his head to look at his left hand when he felt a sharp pain. His jaw dropped as he watched the skin burn away to reveal lines of clear onyx on his hand and up his arm to his shoulder like rising hollowed flames then down his chest, forming disconnected swirls with curved spikes sticking out of them. Thorin felt dread welling up as he realized the hairs on his arms were burning away as well as the ones on his chest. He visibly relaxed when he looked to his legs and found the hairs there were still present.

Suddenly the weight on top of him was gone, but he was still on fire. Flesh still continued to burn away. Slowly he rose to his feet, no longer feeling like he was wearing a second skin, save for his head, which wasn't surprising. Thorin would let the change happen at its own pace. He would graciously settle for gazing up at Smaug's terrified face. He shamelessly smirked as Smaug took a step back.

The second he felt the extra skin on his head disappeared, the flames extinguished themselves and his insides silenced themselves. There were no whispers fueling his actions or consuming his thoughts. There was nothing. His mind was empty because he was thinking about why it empty and nothing else. His body was void of all emotions, save for curiosity because that was what he was feeling and only that. But the most significant thing was that he finally felt like he wasn't a stranger in his own body. It no longer felt like he was constantly wearing too many clothing (quite literal this time around). All his movement, from the way his toes curled into the ground to the breaths he took, felt right and natural as it should be.

Thorin sauntered over to where his sword was and picked it up then approached Smaug. Smaug instantly opened his mouth, and Thorin amusingly snorted. Smaug should be old enough to know that wouldn't work on him, especially now. But sure enough, the flames came, and Thorin raised a hand and watched with a smile on his face as the fire stopped in midair, beating against a forcefield that wasn't there as flames shot out in all direction but forward.

This must be the reason why he loved those stories. They were preparing him for this. This was the reason he was created for--to stop the last Firedrake infesting Middle Earth.

The fire suddenly stopped coming, and Thorin watched as Smaug spread his wings. Without missing a beat, Thorin threw his sword at one of the wings, impaling it and eliciting a thunderous roar from Smaug. Thorin then frantically looked for-there! Some distance from him stood a large stone with black scorch marks on it. Thorin extended his right hand and commanded the stone to rise, which it shakily did. He quickly tossed the stone at Smaug's head. He had a sickeningly satisfied feeling when he heard bone break before a mighty roar. Thorin charged forward, calling forth all the dust and small rock littering the surrounding, and with one great swing of his arm, he threw them at Smaug's eyes, putting a great deal of force into shooting the small rock, so he could blind Smaug.

Smaug blindly trashed about, clawing at his surrounding while spitting fire. One of the claws connected with Thorin's chest as he was reaching for his sword. What should have ripped him open left claw marks left lacerations that were centimeters deep with very little blood oozing out. Thorin frustratingly huffed at getting injured and for not thinking about the other solution in the first place. He held out his right hand and called to the steel his sword was made of. The sword dislodged itself from the wings, making Smaug hiss, and flew into his hand.

Thorin swiftly got on his feet and charged at Smaug once again, dodging and slicing the claw that came at him. Smaug snapped his jaw at Thorin, who agilely moved out of the way but not before pushing the stones deeper into Smaug's eyes. Smaug opened his mouth to roar, but Thorin thrust the sword through his soft palate. Blood gushed out, streaming down the sword and his hand. Thorin removed the sword then punched Smaug with his left fist, causing pain to shot through his hand. Thorin grinned despite the pain when Smaug staggered back and fell onto his back.

Thorin shifted his gaze on his sword and watched as smoke rose from it, burning away the dark, almost black blood, to reveal a glowing light-red metal. Thorin hurriedly stabbed Smaug through the heart. Smaug threw back his head and let out a booming roar that Thorin was sure could be heard from the mountain, maybe even Greenwood. Thorin removed the sword to repeatedly stab at the Drake's heart before slitting the creature's throat, spilling the black blood onto the ground.

He staggered back and subsequently off of the Dragon to watch as it went still with both of it's legs spread out wide, one wing spread to the side while the other was bent back at an angle, arms at his side and his mouth left wide opened. He watched the foul beast bleed into the ground up to the point where darkness crept up from around his eyes. Before he knew it, Thorin was falling with a thud, hitting his head but feeling no pain.

The last thing he thought before the darkness took him was that he probably left a dent in the ground. 

~ ❇ ~

The first thing Thorin noticed as he regained consciousness was the splitting pain that wracked his body. Every small movement caused a sharp pain to some part of his body, even if it was an unrelated part. Breathing wasn't much easier. Every breath took him back to getting fitted for new clothes where needles pricked everywhere.

The second thing he noticed was that someone held his hand in theirs. Thorin was momentarily shocked and attempted to move his hand but was too weak to do so. It wasn't until a thumb started stoking the back of his hand that he realized who it was. But why did it feel so different?

Slowly, the events that transpired before he blacked out came flooding back: setting off to patrol to fields, finding nothing, then one of his guards spotting something in the sky, the fields burning, him ordering Dwalin to warn his mother, Smaug, his burning flesh and finally a Dragon carcass.

He did the last one. He did what Hardinor was tasked to do, but with the help of stones and fire and his rock hard body, forged from fire. He was Mahal's chosen Helper. His Blessed One. That alone was capable of distracting him from his pain and the hand holding his. He became the very thing he had admired since childhood. Maybe not admired because they rarely inspired him, only offered comfort. They were preparing him, had been for years. 

Euphoria was steadily building in him, counteracting the pain or simply pushing it back. He was tasked by Mahal to help rid this world of evil, and he did it before having any training to gain control over his powers. Something the others had not accomplished before.

"I know you're awake, Thorin." His mother's less than amused voice sent his euphoria plummeting. While filled with dread, Thorin slowly opened his eyes to see his mother's stormy face gazing down at him. "Why must your entire line feel the need to charge head first into everything? A Dragon, Thorin. You faced down a Dragon all by yourself." He opened his mouth to defend his action but she quickly cut him off. "I don't care how _blessed_ you are--that was completely reckless and stupid."

"I knew...I knew what I was doing," he rasped out.

"Did you? Did you really," she asked, irritated, making Thorin shrink into himself. A snort had him snapping his head to the side, making the room spin. It was only that he released he was in his room, and Dwalin was casually leaning against his fireplace, dressed in light armor, black trousers and a deep-green tunic, with his war hammer next to him.

Thorin frown at him--all three of him--before asking, "How long have I been out?"

"Three days," was his mother's brusque reply.

"Oh," Thorin dazedly said, staring up at the little diamonds lining his ceiling. To him, it felt like he took a quick nap.

His mother resumed stroking the back of his hand. "Óin said you completely exhausted yourself," his mother quietly said. "We weren't sure when you'll wake up." Her voice cracked at the end, and he looked over to see her misty eyed.

"I'm sorry," Thorin gently said.

She wetly laughed. "I know, dear. I know." Her eyes trailed down to the hand she held then up his arm with a look of awe.

Thorin's heart painfully lurched. "Please don't do that," Thorin said in a strained voice, causing her to look up at him with a worried look. Thorin felt relaxed by that. "I think I have had enough of my family looking at things with amazement to last me this lifetime and the next."

She gave a sympathetic look. "Sorry," she said, but his eyes were drawn to the marking in his arm and chest, the parts that weren't covered by his blanket. The marking were lighter than what he first though. One could look into them until they saw the black lining on the back. The reflected the light given off by the fireplace and the torches handing on the wall, but to him, they fell like regular skin. And judging by how relaxed his mother was with stroking his hand, she felt skin as well. This would also explain why touches had felt different than before. He was no longer wearing it second skin; he was wearing the skin he was meant to have.

"It's so different," he whispered.

"You know the markings aren't the same," his mother reminded him.

"No," Thorin said, shaking his head and ultimately pulling his skin and sending jolts of pain through him. How much did he exhausted himself? He barely did anything. Maybe he really did need training after all. "No, I mean the change. I didn't burn-well, I did, but it wasn't the same."

"What do you mean?" his mother eagerly asked inching forward.

"I didn't hurt," he admitted, confused. "My skin just burned off." A gagging sound came from his right, and Thorin looked over to see Dwalin standing closer to his bed. "Have you been staying in my room this entire time?" he asked with a frown, noticing the blackness around Dwalin's eyes and how he seemed to sag a little while standing up.

Dwalin huffed and rolled his eyes before gruffly asking, "You said your skin burnt off?"

Thorin rolled his eyes this time, annoyed. And he was the stubborn one. "Yes," he answered. "This--" he gestured to his left arm in particular, "--isn't my real skin. I mean, it is but it was growing under me."

"What?" the two other occupants in the room said together.

"It was growing-crystallizing under my skin. I didn't feel the agony of having my insides burned like the Kilör and Bolkk. I didn't even feel my skin burn off," he urgently told them.

"Well, no-one said it was always going to be the same, Thorin," his mother helpfully said. "But if it would make you feel better I will send word to Tharkûn. Maybe he can explain why yours was different."

The fell into silence before Dwalin spoke up. "You said it was growing inside you?" Dwalin frowned, and Thorin nodded at him. "When did it start?"

"A few years ago," Thorin answered and tried to make himself more comfortable in hopes of easing some of his pain but to no anvil. It was then something occurred to him. "No, it wasn't," he breathed out, wide eyed. "It was the day grandfather found that accursed stone." One thought concerning the Arkenstone was all it took for Thorin to feel queasy.

"Thorin?" his mother worriedly questioned, obviously seeing his discomfort.

"Where are they?" Thorin asked instead of reassuring her. Her unwillingness to meet his eyes clued him in to where they were. "It makes perfect sense," he said, back to gazing up at his ceiling. "I have always told you that stone was dark, and now I truly know that. Mahal's grace, the other part of my soul, was protecting me from it. I should have seen it." He looked frantically at his mother. "I have always shared father and grandfather's love of gems and precious metals, but that changed the day the stone was found. I never looked at anything that shines the same way after that day...they shines just as bright but never commanded my attention in the same what it did." Thorin was now specifically speaking about the diamond in his ceiling. He could easily look at them and look away. When he was younger, they used to keep him up at night, shimmering above like the stars there were meant to imitate.

Thorin tired to get up, but his mother promptly pushed him back down. "What are you doing?" she hissed.

"I need to get rid of that stone," he fervidly hissed back then pressed back into his bed when she icily glared at him.

"You are not doing anything until you can stand on your own two feet," she sternly warned him. "I'll handle you father and grandfather."

"Amad!" Thorin shouted, concerned.

"I'll be fine," she firmly told him. "And you need to rest. We have no idea if your body is still changing, and I will not lose you because you're too stubborn to take care of yourself. _All of yourself_."

"You won't lose me, Amad," Thorin gently said, taking hold of her hand and giving it a light squeeze. "I have the same powers as the two of them. I can't be killed that easily."

"Which means nothing if you work yourself to death," she snapped, misty eyed.

Thorin defeatedly sighed. "I'll rest," he said. "And I'm sorry for scaring you. And I promise you, you won't lose either of them either."

"Sleep," she hushed him and kissed his forehead head. "I'll think of something."

The only problem with that was, Thorin never learned what she planned because when he woke two days later, she wasn't in his chamber. Thorin jumped out of bed in one move, feeling no pain but a sudden awareness of everything in his room. For instance, while he was rummaging through his wardrobe for a tunic to wear, he could sense Dwalin sleeping on the chair by the fireplace. And it wasn't because he had developed psychic powers, it was because he was connected to the stone around him. They were an extension of his senses, but they were more alive, actively feeding him information about what he senses weren't picking up at the moment, which was why he knew Dwalin was waking up before he made a sound.

"We're late," Thorin said before Dwalin could so much as yawn. Frustrated, Thorin simply grabbed the dark-red tunic and quickly pulled it on before facing his slack jawed friend. He strode over to his friend and speedily snatched up his war hammer and sprinted to the door.

"Thorin!"

Thorin determinedly ignored Dwalin, entered into the halls, and marched towards the throne room, where he knew his father and grandfather were. He marveled at how his newfound powers allowed him to know who was approaching him before they even saw him. He knew his powers wouldn't extended beyond the size of his room, but it was still extremely useful.

He decidedly ignored gapping looks he got and how the citizens of Erebor stopped to gawked at him, and especially ignored Dwalin's shouts for him to slow down.

When he got to the two enormous ornate oak doors, the two guards stared stupidly at him. Thorin huffed, annoyed, before pushing the doors open himself. What was normally a two Dwarrows job was effortlessly accomplished by him. Exactly like he had sensed, the throne room was filled with many of the Lords and Ladies of the court and some lower citizen.

Thorin ignored his mother's relieved expression and solely focused on the stone set in the diamond shaped carving above his grandfather's throne.

"What is the meaning of this?!" his grandfather vehemently spat.

Thorin just as intensely ignored him to focus on the black stone. It was still giving off the same familiar haze, but Thorin knew what it was. It was scent that lured his grandfather to it then his father and finally Smaug. It was the black smoke that could no longer permeate his nose to get inside of him. The repulsion he felt was off his own doing this time--all of him. The only difference this time was the whispers coming from the stone. It was calling to him, sweetly whispering about riches and power. Gems and metals were not meant to be alive. He knew that deep down. The stones were only alive around because he was forged from stone, and they were an extension of him that he would feel because of Mahal's grace, otherwise the stones were dead and lifeless--things to be shaped.

Thorin held his hand out, and the Arkenstone shook a little, causing dust to fall onto his grandfather's face before dislodging and flying through the air into his hand.

"Thorin!" his grandfather furiously shouted, eyes getting darker, face blackening with rage as the haze steamed out of him. His father was in the same state but less intense with lighter eyes--very dark-blue--and far less rage in the lines on his face. His mother had fear written on her face, more for Thorin than for her husband or her father-in-law. He was glad Dís and Frerin were visiting Ered Luin with Dáin and his father. 

Thorin gazed down at the black spear in his hand as the haze wrapped around his hand. He callously dropped the sphere onto the ground causing a ringing sound to pierce the quiet air but was quickly consumed with sharp gasps for nearly everyone in the room. He stopped it from rolling away with his bare foot.

"Guard! Guards! Seized him!" his grandfather frantically bellowed.

The guards stood frozen behind him. Thorin knew it was partly due to fear of what he could do and partly due to the unwillingness to lay a hand on Mahal's Blessed One. Thorin could care little for the reasoning.

Staring piercingly at the sphere, he fervently commanded in his mind, 'You will break!" before hefting up Dwalin's hammer and smashing the Arkenstone to pieces. But Thorin didn't stop there--he kept hammering at the pieces, paying no mind to the wails coming from the two by the throne. It wasn't until the Arkenstone was pounded to dust that Thorin ceased his onslaught. And it wasn't until he stopped that the fine dust turned to black goo, staining the floor beneath his feet. A collective gasp rang through the throne room. The wailing stopped.

Thorin then held out his left hand, fingers spread wide and concentrated until a spark flashed an inch above his palm then burst into a bright blue flame. Focusing little on his surprise, Thorin threw the flame on the black goo and willed it to spread and burn hotter than ever. He fully intended to leave a mark--a reminder of what greed could cause.

After Thorin snuffed out the flames and inspected the deformed star the flames formed, Thorin looked up to see his grandfather sitting on his throne with a look of horror and shame on his face. His eyes were back to their milky-blue color. His father was standing next to him with a hand on his shoulder, and equal look of horror and shame on his face--eyes a mirror of Thorin's. His mother was clutching her chest and looked seconds from sinking to her knees in relief and exhaustion.

Thorin hastened to her side, wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and guided her out the throne room. His father and grandfather needed time to come to terms with what they did. When they were ready to face their family, they knew where they were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I have Thorin as a twenty-five (human years so it's easier to visualize) with Frerin being twenty-one and Dis being twenty. 
> 
> Thorin's markings, or a rough imitation of what I imagined  
> (http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_anpsKepwj_M/SpzTUbIlV5I/AAAAAAAABEE/i_ZtVi7nT4o/s400/Tribal%2Bflash%2Barm%2Bchest%2Btattoo.png)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Defense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo Baggins of the Shire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally learn about the other Helper and his life because we needed to know both their histories before we have them meet each other. 
> 
> Enjoy.

Bilbo Baggins had always thought that the Shire was extremely lucky in the sense that they had not needed a Helper in centuries. After the arduous trek from the Valley of Anduin to Bree, lead by Dalco Fallohide, the Hobbits had lived in peace with the Men of Bree. And after the founding of the Shire, there was never a need for a Helper or Blessed one. Personally,--and many would agree with him--Bilbo strongly believed that was the way it should be. The Hobbits of Arda were not violent creatures and as such shouldn't be expected to partake in skirmish of any kind. Even the adventurous Tooks held deep morals about fighting, in that it should only be used in the defense of one's person and if absolutely necessary. Otherwise, diplomacy should be used to solve any problem that arose.

Bilbo strongly held belief that if the Valar needed Helpers to carry out their work, they would seek out the other races of Middle Earth, was what caused him to neglect learning about the other Blessed Ones. Sure, he knew of their origins, especially that of Primrose Fireflower and Dalco Fallohide, but he cared little about their lives and what they did with the powers the Valar gifted them with. To him, they were merely helpers, and that was it. They shouldn't be revered as they were by certain races. They shouldn't be put on a pedestal higher than those who save lives on a daily basis simply because they could save people on a much larger scale. All who saved lives should be rewarded the same respect.

Certainly, there were those would would vehemently disagree with him, saying the Blessed Ones should be revered and held higher since they carried a piece of the Valar in their very soul. But Bilbo would argue the Valar never intended for their Helpers to be looked upon with such reverence since they were not created to be gazed upon--they were created to help.

Regardless, Bilbo invested little energy into learning about the Helpers and more energy in to running around with Esmeralda, Saradoc, Hamfast and Flaco, causing all forms of mischief as faunts were expected to do. More Importantly, Bilbo would much rather scour through the woods looking for Elves and tracking home mud, leaves and twigs than learning about history. Because he would much rather be outside than stuck in their smial, in spite of how much he loved it.

His love of being out steadily grew the older he got and greatly intensified after he turned thirty. Bilbo would say intensified in the sense that he fell calmer and happier the more time he spent outside rather that inside. His mother, being a Took, joined his cause, urging his Baggins of a father there was no harm in him wanting to be out in the wild, seeing as they were Hobbit, and the land called to them, and Bilbo could still be a respectable Baggins. Bilbo's only reasoning was he was a tween and should be out with his friends and not stuck home.

His true reasons, however, he kept to himself, out of fear that his parents would stop him if they found out. Because ever since his growing need to be outside pulled him him to the forest, it also pulled various animals with him: robins, bluejays, sparrows, fawns, squirrels, rabbits, and many more. Bilbo had always been friendly with the creatures of the woods but never like this. He had accounted the additional attention to the animals getting over their fear of him.

However, years later he learned that he was very wrong. It was at the beginning of September, weeks before his fifty-seventh birthday, when a scream ripped through him. He was in small clearing in the woods, where he often escaped to when he wanted to be alone, more specifically when he wanted the companionship of those small in stature and lacking large, furry feet. One minute, Bilbo was leisurely walking in circles around the clearing, complaining about how his mother still treated him as a child when he was years out of his maturity, then the next he was on knees with his nails digging into the ground, screaming. His screaming was so agonizing that it had all his animal friends scampering off in search of safety.

Bilbo didn't even have time to feel contrition because it felt like something on his lower back was clawing to the surface, clawing across his lower back from left to right then slowly up his right side then across his shoulders. It almost felt as if something was growing under his skin as it rose to the surface. But Bilbo didn't care--he wanted the pain to stop. He didn't want to feel as multiple sharp object were digging across his shoulder blades, like small crevices were forming over his back. Bilbo keep his eyes tightly shut as the pain intensified and mercilessly bit his bottom lip to stop from screaming any more.

Bilbo felt a persistent scream edged its way up his throat, and before he could hold it down, the pain vanished, leaving nothing but his ragged breathing and the tears streaming down his face. Painstakingly slow, Bilbo opened his eyes and sharply gasped. The ground beneath him was gray. The once vibrant green grass he loved to sink his toes into were dead. Frantically, he looked around only to be filled with despair. All the trees surrounding the little clearing were all black and slowly decaying with some fallen branches littering the ground. All the leaves were on the ground in varying stages of decay.

"No-no-no-no," Bilbo despairingly wailed before he felt lightheaded. Slowly the blackness he saw out of the corner of his eyes inched towards the center. Before Bilbo knew it, he was falling face first, and the blackness took hold of him before he hit the ground.

~ ❇ ~

Whispers were what roused Bilbo from his slumber, which could mean one of two thing: he either left his door opened before he went to bed or one of his parents checked up on his last night and forgot to close his door. Bilbo was more than willing to bet on the latter reason. Being an only child seemed to make his parents extremely overprotective. With a tired groan, Bilbo lugged himself out of bed to not so gently close his door, grousing the entire way there about not choosing a room farther away from the sitting room.

Before Bilbo could get back into bed or fully wonder why he was shirtless and why he was wearing the same set of trousers from yesterday, his door opened with a bang, making his flinch and almost slipping on the blanket. He spun around to glare at the one responsible for the headache he now had, who happened to be his mother. Why was she wearing that green dress with frills around the arms and down the neck line with the pink peonies embroidered on the waist? She wore that yesterday.

"Bilbo, dear, you're okay," his mother said, relieved, as she pulled him into a bone crushing hug.

"Of course, I'm okay," he testily said, wanting nothing more than to go back to bed and stop his ribs from rubbing together.

She pulled back and looked suspiciously at his face. Her forest green eyes widened. "You don't remember?"

"Remember what?" he snapped. Normally, he was quite the morning person, but it was far too early--the lack of light in his room attested to that--, and he was pleasantly sleeping just minutes ago.

His mother craned her head back toward the door and yelled, "Gandalf!"

Bilbo was wide awake now. "Gandalf is here?" he excitedly asked, and his mother worriedly nodded just before Gandalf and his father came rushing through his bedroom door. Similarly to his mother, he father was dressed in the clothes from yesterday: black slacks, white dress shirt and his dark-brown waist coat. Did they not go to bed yesterday? "Gandalf!" Bilbo happily greeted and broke away from his mother to hug the worried wizard. Bilbo would be too if his mother yelled for him like that. 

"Hello, my dear boy," Gandalf softly said, returning the hug and relaxing into the embrace.

"What are you doing here?" Bilbo questioned. "Not that you're not welcomed, of course." Bilbo blushed as Gandalf lightly chuckled at him, and his mother stopped next to him.

"Well, If memory serves me correctly, a certain Hobbit has a birthday to celebrate soon," he teased. Bilbo widely grinned up at him then turned his head to share his happiness, and just as quickly as his smile came, it left. Neither of his parents looked too happy concerning Gandalf's presence, which was troubling to Bilbo. Gandalf had always been welcomed in their smial, not matter when he showed up.

"Father?" Bilbo cautiously called out to him.

"He doesn't remember anything, Gandalf," his mother said, troubled.

"Oh," Gandalf responded, releasing a relieved sigh. "I had thought there was something to worry about."

"Gandalf!" his mother shouted in an affronted tone, hand on her chest.

Gandalf simply waved off her concerns with a simple, "He's fine."

Now, Bilbo's irrigation was back. "What is going on here?" he asked in a irked tone only to have his mother gasped with her hand over her mouth, staring wide eyed at his shoulder. "What are you looking at?" he insistently asked, trying to look over his shoulder but without much luck. He angrily stomped over to the full length mirror next to his wardrobe.

"No," he uselessly lamented when he saw what shocked his mother. Tattooed across his back was a black tree; its roots branched out across the bottom of his back then the slim trunk curved up his right side, and finally, the trunk gave way to branches that spread across his shoulder and down to where his shoulder blades end. The branches were filled with tiny, translucent oak leaves. "No," Bilbo pitifully wailed then widened his eyes when the leaves changed colors, ranging from a pale yellow to black, slowly falling as if carried away by a gentle breeze before disappearing.

Bilbo... Bilbo should have expected. Dalco Fallohide had rose vine that wrapped around his left ankle and leg, and the roses bloomed and lost their petals whenever he felt strong emotions. Bilbo was feeling a myriad of strong emotion right now: shock, disbelief, fear, anger, despair, to name a few. Fear and despair were the most prominent emotions Bilbo was experiencing because the marking--his marking, he corrected himself--meant that something terrible was going to happen. It was only then his memories came flooding back to him: storming out of his house, running to the clearing, ranting about be treated like a child, the pain and his dead surroundings.

"Now, don't start panicking, Bilbo," Gandalf sternly said as he was about to do just that. Bilbo shot him an incredulous look. How could Gandalf not expect him to panic? The tree on his back gave him the right to panic. "This does not mean something terrible is about to happen--"

"Yes, it does!" Bilbo shouted, spinning around to face him and cutting him off.

"Not necessarily," Gandalf calmly said, and Bilbo really wanted to shake him and asked him if he mad. "The mere fact that your marking is a tree means you were blessed by Yavanna and seeing as you are a Hobbit, battle and death are not what you are called to help with. Yavanna's concerns have always been the plants and animals of Arda, not fighting."

"Oh, dear," Bilbo fearfully said. "Everything is going to die--we're all going to starve!"

"Bilbo!" Gandalf bellowed, making himself stand up taller and causing the room to darkened. Bilbo to flinch back. Gandalf slowly made himself less imposing and serenely said, "You are not going to starve, Bilbo; your very existence is indicative of that."

"What if it something else?" Bilbo whispered and looked up with fear in his eyes.

Gandalf's expression turned fond. "Then you will do what you were created to do--you'll help fix the problem."

"What if I can't?"

"My dear boy, the Valar-Yavanna would have never sent you if she didn't believe you could accomplish the task she sent you for. She would have never given you a part of herself if she didn't believe you could do it."

Bilbo took a deep, calming breath and slowly let it out, feeling his panic tamper down. "Okay. So, what do I have to do?"

Gandalf widely grinned at him. "You, Bilbo Baggins, need training. And I happen to know the perfect place for it."

"No-no-no," his father said, vigorously shaking his head. "He is not going anywhere alone with you."

"Then come with us," Gandalf said, uncaring. Ignoring his father's outrageous look, Gandalf looked to his mother. "I also know that Elrond would very much like to see you again. And you have been wanting to show Bilbo and Bungo Rivendell for sometime now. This will be the perfect opportunity to do that." His mother had a pensive look on her face, staring intently at Gandalf, causing Bilbo to worry, and apparently Gandalf, who added, "Bilbo will learn more in Rivendell than he could ever hope to learn in the Shire, especially since there are written accounts of Yavanna's Helpers in Rivendell's library."

"Well," she started said, and his father sighed in defeat while Bilbo was overcome with his relief and happiness.

"We'll leave after his birthday," his father told them, looking quite tired.

"I don't want anyone to know," Bilbo firmly told them. "I don't want them treating me different." He didn't want them to hold him higher than the others, he wanted to say.

"I agree," Gandalf thoughtfully said. "We don't want to cause a panic." Bilbo guiltily colored with embarrassment.

"That would be wise," his mother agreed. "We'll discuss all the details at dinner." She then turned to Bilbo. "I take it you're hungry since you only had breakfast before you left here."

Bilbo stared at her, slack jawed before asking, "How long was it out? Wait, how did you even find me?"They had never found him before. 

She smirked at him. "I deer showed up in the garden, giving me quite the fright, then processed to drag me out into the woods by my skirt." She chortled and his father joined in before saying, "A rabbit found me down by Brandywine and nipped at my toes until it finally got my attention."

Bilbo laughed along with the rest of them, feeling his emotions settled down. He was afraid, however, to see if the leaves on his back grew back, even though he knew they were. The irony that he of all people would have been chosen had him laughing all over again. Possibly the only person on Middle Earth who didn't actively seek out praise was given gifts that would help his gain praises.

'Speaking of gifts,' Bilbo thought to himself then out loud he asked, "I am capable of growing any plant I desire, correct?"

Gandalf hummed as he nodded. "Among other things."

"What do you mean?"

Gandalf stared blankly at him long enough for him to start squirming in place before turning to his mother and asking, "You have thought him about the Blessed Ones, I trust?"

"Of course," she readily said, a tad insulated, eyeing the two of them. Her eyes then narrowed at Bilbo. "I have read the history of the Blessed Ones to him. I just foolishly believed he was listening to me." Bilbo sheepishly smiled at her.

"I will take that wine now, Belladonna," Gandalf said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Certainly, Gandalf," she sympathetically said.

"We have much to discuss."

The rest of the night, Bilbo studiously listened to all the stories Gandalf of the Blessed Ones Gandalf had to offer and had them repeated to him in the days that followed. And each day that followed, Gandalf and he secretly practiced his abilities at night, and they continued to do so up until the arrived at Rivendell. At Rivendell, his training was done privately with Elrond up until one of the twins saw them, and the entire kingdom soon found out what he was. After that incident and Bilbo forcing Elrond to make a royal decree that no-one was to treat him differently, and no-one was the speak of what he was, Elrond and he resumed his training in the open up to the point where Gandalf convinced his parent to take him to Lothlórien to study under Galadriel. After some time there, Gandalf once again convinced his parents to travel to Greenwoods.

A trip that should have lasted as few mount turned into four years with every Elf finding out what he was due to minor slip ups, and him threatening to suck the life out of all the trees if they so much as breathed a word to the other races of Arda or treat him differently. All the while he was traveling, Bilbo kept a watchful eye out for any signs of trouble and found none. And when they returned to the Shire, all was well and peaceful and continued to stay so until the Winter after his ninetieth birthday--the time the Brandywine River froze over.

Bilbo was feeling off the entire day but even moreso whenever he went out into the snow. To him, the air felt much colder. His mother had confirmed it when he had asked and had told him it was probably his mind playing tricks on him. He had convinced himself she was right up to the point where the two of them met Adalgrim Took, the village doctor, while out when the snow had finally stopped falling.

"Sick?" his mother worriedly exclaimed.

"Aye," Adalgrim tiredly confirmed. "A large portion of Hobbiton and most of Buckland."

The sickness would be why Bilbo felt off. It was in the air, and the trees felt it and tried to tell him, but he thought it was the cold when in actually it was the tree relaying what they felt to him. Bilbo could almost feel Galadriel tsking at him for being so unaware of his surrounding. Well, she was going to have to forgive him. He had been cooped up in his house for about a week now in the dead of winter with sleeping plants and animals around him. He couldn't very well trudge through heavy snow to go wake up one of them, so they could inform him Hobbits were getting sick. He should thank his lucky stars at least of the trees around him were awake to clue him into the fact that something was wrong.

"Do you know what kind of sickness?" Bilbo asked, mentally urging the trees around him to go back to their sleep.

"The flu."

"That's not--"

"It's bad," Adalgrim gravely said, cutting off his mother. "Scorching fever and intense pains, not to mention the constant runnings."

"There must be something you could do," his mother hopefully asked, but Bilbo already knew the answer from looking at Adalgrim's downcast expressions.

"I have tried everything I can," he grimly admitted. "We can only hope everyone pulls through."

"What about Bree?" His mother questioned, sounding a bit hopeful.

"A lovely prospect, but who would deliver a message to Bree in these conditions? Maybe a few days ago, but the snow has piled up so much that the risk of sending someone to Bree and hoping they make it there is too great."

Adalgrim was right. It was too much of a risk to take. Even now, the snow was past Bilbo's knees, and he was above average height. Plus, the snow may have stopped, but the sky was still an ominous gray. Who knew how long before the snow resumed it slow burial of all of the Shire?

"I'm sorry, Belladonna, but I have one patient I need to check up on," he sadly said.

"It's quite all right," she quickly assured him. "We should be heading home as it is." They quickly bid their goodbyes and went their separate ways.

"I could help," Bilbo said the second they entered Bag End. It was a thought he had since they left Adalgrim.

"What?" his mother said, pausing in her attempt to hang up her coat.

"I could help," Bilbo said, a little braver this time. "I have studied healing from three of the best healers in all of Middle Earth. I could help."

"I have no doubt in your knowledge, Bilbo," his mother kindly said, "but your knowledge is limited to plants and herbs, many of which the Shire has never even heard of. If we can't get a message to Bree, we certainly can't get herbs sent to us." Bilbo said nothing and let her resume hanging up her coat. He would patiently wait until she got what he was trying to say.

She, however, didn't and walked into the parlor where his father was, taking her seat right next to him. Bilbo stood in the doorway, waiting.

"Bilbo, why haven't you taken your coat off?" she asked.

"Because I'm going to help Adalgrim," he plainly stated.

"Bilbo, I have told you without any herbs you can't do anything." He widened his eyes and stared intently at her. "Oh," she quietly said, sinking farther into her seat. "Are you sure?" she then seriously asked.

"Would someone care to explain what is going on here?" his father impatiently asked.

"People are getting sick all over the Shire," Bilbo told his father. "And the only way to help is if I use my knowledge of herbs to heal them. Herbs I can only get if _I_ grow them."

His father jumped out of his seat. "Are you sure?" he unsmilingly asked. "Because Hobbits get sick during the Winter all the time, so this hardly seems like what Yavanna would send you for."

"Well, I can't sit here and let people die!" Bilbo angrily shouted. "Adalgrim hasn't come right out as said it but the trees have told me Hobbits are close to death. I can't let them die when I can help them. I'm meant to help regardless of simple the task may seem."

His father gave him a resigned look while his mother said, "Then we better hurry before the snow sets in again." Bilbo sagged in relief before giving her a grateful smile.

"I'll go get my coat," his father announced.

"You don't have to come with me."

"Do you want to tell the Tooks you have a piece of the Green Lady's grace in you all by yourself?" his father questioned with a raise eyebrows, causing Bilbo to duck his head. He had been so consumed with helping people he had completely forgotten no-one in the Shire knew what he could do. "Besides, whatever your are going to do, you are going to need hands to help with the mixing and distributing."

"Then come on then," his mother instructed, getting out of her seat. "We need to make haste." His parents hurriedly put on their coast, and they made haste to Tuckborough. To Bilbo's great relief, Adalgrim was already back, and he was the one to open the door for them.

"Belladonna," he exclaimed, concerned.

"I know a way we can help the Hobbits," Bilbo rushed out before he could say anymore. "And we need you to gather the Tooks in the banquet hall."

"Will do," he said and rushed off, leaving them to let themselves in. Bilbo concluded Adalgrim was much too relieved to be able to help to care about manners. The leisurely walked to the banquet hall to give Adalgrim time to gather all the Tooks.

"Adalgrim said you can help," Grandfather Took said the minute they entered the hall. It was a simple hall with hardwood floor and three large tables where all the Tooks were sitting at.

"I can," Bilbo confirmed. "But first I have to tell you all something, but I need this to be stay between us." He still had no intention of being gawked at. And he still wasn't entirely sure this was the great threat he was meant to help with.

"That depends on what you want us to keep a secret," his grandma said with slightly narrowed eyes.

Bilbo sighed in defeat. He had to tell then and hope they would keep it a secret. Or, he could make his mother threaten them, but that would be a last resort. "We didn't go to Rivendell to visit; we went for something else." Bilbo then quickly took off his red tunic. Better to show them the proof now than to be asked later on. He turned around to hear their sharp gasps. He thought about the hobbits that may die to sadden himself so that the leaves could change color, proving that it wasn't merely a tattoo.

"Belladonna..." his grandfather said, looking at his mother in disbelieve as Bilbo put his tunic back on. "How?...when?"

"You know how father," his mother answered. "As for the when, a few weeks before we left for Rivendell."

"All this time..." he trailed off, looking dazed. "Why haven't you told anyone?"

"And what? Start a panic?" she sardonically said. "It's been years since Bilbo found who is his, and nothing has happened until now. Today is the first time he has ever needed his powers to help anyone."

"He controls plants," Uncle Isengar piped. "And it is the dead of winter with about at least a foot of snow out side."

"And there is a pot of soil over there," Bilbo pliantly said, pointing to the large brown pot in the corner. "Get me three more, which I'm sure you have next to some windowsill, and I'll show you how to heal the Hobbits." His cousins, Paladin and Sigismond, quickly scurried off to get what he need. "And stop looking at me like that. I'm still Bilbo." Many faces flushed with embarrassed, no doubt at being caught gazing in awe of him. Bilbo held down his anger and  went over to the corner and dragged the pot to the the front of the hall. "I'm also going to need all the mortars and pestles you have."

Reluctantly a few of his aunts and uncles went off to the kitchens. Paladin and Sigismond soon returned with three smaller pot and placed them next to the fourth. His mind quickly conjured up the four plants he need: a light-blight-blue bell shaped flower, fever root, a heart shaped leaf with saw-like edges, catnip, a light-brown acorn like fungi, maitake mushrooms, and lastly small jax-like buds that opened as tiny stars, cinnamon. He willed them to grow, and he made them a little more potent.

Small shoots sprang up from the pots then rapidly grew to full bloom. Bilbo started proudly at the three pots. He remembered how extraneous it was to make a simple flower bloom, and now he could call forth four different plants with a mere image. While rolling his eyes, he walked over to his Aunt Rosa and took the black mortar from her. He walked back over to the lots and tore off a piece of mushroom.

"Start with the mushroom first since it is harder to grind up," he told. "Then add some of the leaves from the fever root." He pointed to the bell shaped flowers. "Then the catnip and finally the cinnamon." Most of them nodded. "When it's ready, it should be a dark brown color."

"And what are exactly are we going to do with the paste we made?" his grandfather asked.

"We administer a spoonful to every sick Hobbit at eight hour intervals until their fever breaks, though it normally takes no more than two spoonfuls before that happens," Bilbo told him.

"And it will work?" Adalgrim asked. Bilbo took no offense to the skepticism and nodded.

"All right then," his grandfather said, standing up. "We have much to do. _Bilbo_ ," he stressed, "has come to help us, but he can't do it alone, and I fully intend to help him. Anyone else with me?"

A chorus of Aye-s rang out, and Bilbo smiled his thanks, knowing his secret was safe with the Tooks until it was time for him to reveal what he was to the whole of the Shire. The Tooks then followed Bilbo's instructions, grinding and filling paste into jars to take with them to those who were sick. When Bilbo wasn't grinding himself, he was growing more of the herbs. It wasn't until hours later and darker skies that they made enough paste. They split up into group, some going by foot and the rest going by wagon.

Bilbo fretfully slept that night and was agitated the entire day until word came that people's fevers were breaking. That night all the Took celebrated together with many other Hobbits doing their own private celebrations.

However, the air of celebration was cut short when the howls came. When the Hobbit heard howls, Bilbo heard calls for blood and meat. Hobbits took to hiding deep in their homes, baring their doors with whatever they had in their houses. It was somewhat a blessing that the wolves only attacked at night, but that still lead to the death of numerous Hobbits. They survived sickness just to be eaten. 

Everything changed when the wolves started attacking during the day. Bilbo felt this harder because he couldn't think of anything he could do. And even more disastrous was that his mother was out the day they attacked, and one wolf was telling the other to corner the Hobbit-lady.

"Bilbo, stay here," his father sternly commanded him, grabbing his coat and taking Bilbo's mother's sword. Bilbo pleaded with her to take it with he but she didn't.

"I can't!" Bilbo viciously shouted. The howls for blood were getting closer.

"Bilbo Baggins, you will stay here!" his father vehemently shouted, making him cower into himself. His father then put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I promise I will bring her back." He didn't wait for Bilbo's response from; he determinedly strode to the door, leaving Bilbo alone with his fear and inadequacies.

Bilbo tried to block out the howls but ran outside when one of the wolves shouted for the others to attack the larger Hobbit. Bilbo frantically ran through the snow to find his father lying on the ground clutching his thigh, blood soaking the ground below him, while his mother was standing in front of him with her sword held high. There were a few claw marks across her arms and down her legs, blood dripping from each one. A group of seven wolves was slowly advancing towards her.

"Leave her alone!" he ferociously shouted, and the wolves paused to look at him with confusion lighting their eyes.

"Bilbo, run!" his mother desperately yelled, causing the wolves to focus back on her and resuming their advance.

"I said leave her alone!" Bilbo howled. The wolves pain him no mind. Hot, seething rage rose up as Bilbo tightly clenched. "I SAID LEAVE HER ALONE!" Bilbo murderously roared, and the wolves froze as one. It was only then that Bilbo realized that his body was glowing a pale yellow color. The last time this had happened was when the twins saw him and Elrond--the day he killed all the plants in Elrond's private garden.

The wolves back away slowly with fear in their eyes, and head lowered like they were bowing to him. it shouldn't be as surprising as it was. He could control plants. It wasn't that much of a stretch that he could control animals, too. One of them opened their mouth to say something, but Bilbo shut him up with a cold glare. He was about to shout out a command when the wolves looked up with widened eyes, and the trees woke up around him to shout warnings to him. Bilbo rapidly spun around to see a group of about thirty Orcs marching towards them on wargs.

Bilbo was paralyzed with fear as he watched their bloody faces and weapons get closer to him. The growling coming from the side of him cut through his internal panicking, bringing him out of himself. The wolves protectively put themselves in front of him, growling menacingly at the small Orc army advancing.

Bilbo took a deep calming breath before he ruthlessly shouted, "Kill them!" His skin glowed brighter, and the wargs stopped. In the blink of an eyes, the wargs were throwing their riders off their back and aiming for their throats. The wolves all howled, calling the rest of their pack to where they were. Bilbo heard answering howls in the distance as Orcs were trying desperately to escape.

The nails of Bilbo's hand dug into his palm as the ground began to shake, creating fissures that many of the retreating Orcs fell into. Bilbo clenched and unclenched his fist, and suddenly thick thorny vines rose up from the fissures, wrapping around the Orcs attempting to escape. The large thorns dug into the Orc's flesh, eliciting painful screams, as the wargs and wolves ripped the trapped Orcs to shreds.

Bilbo had to turn around and away from the carnage when the warg and wolves started gnawing of the Orc flesh. It was when he turned that he noticed that countless Hobbits were staring at him and the scene behind him with a mix of horror and awe. Hamfast was closer to him, helping his father stand up. Bilbo felt relief rush through him. His father looked to be all right, if not a little bit paler but alive. Both his mother and his father were looking at him in utter shock. They had seen all he could do with his power but never this.

Soon a tall familiar gray figure was wading through a sea of stunned Hobbits to get to his parents side. Gandalf and he locked eyes. They had been wrong all along. Just because he was a Hobbit and blessed by Yavanna didn't mean his powers couldn't be used for fighting. He may not have a strong call to fight as the other Helpers, but that didn't mean he couldn't.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on out, the story will mostly be from Bilbo's point of view. I also decided to keep Bilbo's parents alive and have him meet the Elves sooner. 
> 
> This is kinda what Bilbo's marking looks like.  
> (http://www.tattoosforyou.org/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/Tree-Tattoos.jpg)
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	4. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has to deal with the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter this time.

The silence lingering on the steadily reemergence of untouched snow was eating away at Bilbo's resolves and more importantly--his emotions. Each newly fallen snow flake egged on a greater part of him that wanted him to run into the woods that had always given him solace, somehow hid himself away amongst the bare trees. But running was a clear admission that he had done something heinous when in actually he was saving the life of his mother and father. Undoubtedly, no Hobbit could condemn him for saving his parents, right? When he had seen the Orc marching towards them, Bilbo's only thought was to save his parents--the very two beings who had treated him no differently after learning who he was. They still held him accountable for whatever he did wrong, and they were still as overprotective as ever.

Now, surveying the gathering Hobbits, taking in the horror, surprised and awed faces, Bilbo couldn't regret his decision. They were still here to look at him in any manner they wished to. And though Esmeralda, Saradoc, Hamfast, and Falco were looking at him with uncertainty marring their faces, Bilbo was immensely grateful his powers allowed him the chance to prevent both his parents from bleeding out the snow beneath them and to prevent the four of them from bleeding at all. He could have lost them all this very day, so he couldn't begrudged his powers, and he certainly couldn't feel horror at his own actions. The Orcs had been spreading evil and poisoning the land for centuries now, and as the Blessed One of Mother Earth, it was his duty to rid Arda of those foul vermins.

While he may not have felt horror at himself, Bilbo did feel paralyzing fear--fear of what life would be now that all knew what he was. The Shire had been the one place where he could just be Bilbo and nothing else. He could walk down roadways and smile at anyone without seeing the need to bow to him in their eyes. Though, he had gotten used to the look, it was still refreshing and a welcomed relief to be treated as everyone else.  

"Bilbo," Gandalf called out to him, suddenly right in front of him. Gandalf  didn't wait for him to respond. He merely spread his large hand across Bilbo's shoulders, supportively urging Bilbo to follow him. The sea of Hobbits parted, creating a pathway for them. Bilbo couldn't help but think it was mostly due to fear of him rather than Gandalf. When did he become more feared than a Wizard?

Multiple sharp gasps had Gandalf and him abrupt turning around. Following behind his parents and Hamfast was a small army of blood splattered wolves and wargs. They were no longer growling menacingly, but rather following Bilbo with ridiculously happy looks on their face. They almost looked like little puppies who were ecstatic that their owner was home after a long day. Bilbo's lips twitched a little. He couldn't help it--animals had elicited fondness from him.

"Head East to Rhudaur," Bilbo softly instructed them, ignoring how raspy his voice sounded. The raspy sound to his voice had less to do with the screaming a few moments ago and more to do with him fighting down the urge to cry as he watched the life he had built die before him. "There you'll find plenty to keep you through the winter."

Many of the wolves and wargs whined in protest, some adding their desire to stay and protect him. Bilbo pointedly ignored their unspoken desire to help comfort him, similarly to how he ignored the awakened trees who offered their own comfort to him. Bilbo didn't need their comfort right now--he desperately needed an escape.

Bilbo smiled sadly at them and sternly commanded, "Go. Now." They gave him one last displeased look before promptly turning around and dashing off in the direction they came from. Bilbo didn't wait for Gandalf's guidance. He trudged back to Bag End, his unfocused use of power was finally taking its toll on his body. Growing vines had always been an easy feat from him, but utilizing that much energy for such a menial task was not. There were some things that needed the extra boost, and then there were things that a small nudge in the right direction. Knowing when to nudge and when to shove was the true test of his powers.

"Some tea would be much appreciated, Belladonna," Gandalf said when they entered the sitting room of Bag End. She nodded, and Bilbo finally felt the cold he had disregarded seep into his weary bones. His fingers were pale and numb with dried blood under his fingernails from when he had clawed into his palms. His face that would normally heat up the second he entered his home had a very difficult time to get to the state where he would feel the edge of his face slightly burn. And it seemed the only part of him that seemed to stay warm was his feet, which was surprising since they were always the part of him to stay warm during those night spent camping out around the Misty Mountains.

Bilbo wordlessly plopped down on his mother's chair as Hamfast and Gandalf helped situate his father in his chair. When his father was safely tucked in his seat, Hamfast nodded his head to Bilbo's father, who nodded his thanks, before scurrying out of Bag End without a word or glance towards Bilbo. Bilbo hoped no one heard how his heart cracked right down the middle. Bilbo stubbornly held his tears in as Gandalf used his magic to heal the lacerations his father suffered.

Soon after, his mother returned with the tea and some of her raspberry scones, and Gandalf saw to her wounds as his father helped himself.

"Bilbo," his mother sternly said when he refused to accept the tea she had offered him when Gandalf had finished healing her. Reluctantly, he accepted the tea, and silence filled the room. No one was willing to break the silence. Or they didn't know what to say, Bilbo realized.

Gandalf was the first to break the silence, never being one from silence when it didn't serve him a purpose. "That was a first," he mused, more for his benefit that Bilbo's.

"Well, no one has ever needed to command the animals of Arda, now had they?" Bilbo testily said. Gandalf simply raised an eyebrow at him. Bilbo sighed. Gandalf did not deserve his ire. "Sorry."

"It's quite all right, Bilbo," Gandalf said. "And you are correct in that regard. Arda had never needed one to control it's...more wild inhabitants."

"I don't want to control them," Bilbo angrily said, almost jostling his cup and spilling hot tea on himself.

"I never expected you to," Gandalf calmly stated. "But that doesn't change the fact that the power to do so was in you all along...or the other two Helpers of Yavanna, for that matter. You were simply the first to ever need it."

Knowing Gandalf was right and out of a lack of what to respond with, Bilbo busied himself with drinking his tea and warming up his body. Gandalf and he had been foolish to think that the ability to control animals hadn't existed all. Bilbo had a piece of the Green Lady's grace mixed in with his soul. All her powers were his powers but to a lesser extent. And Bilbo was thankful for that, it was challenge enough having this much power in him. He would have hated to know what it felt like to have all of it.

"What now?" Bilbo asked, though he dreaded to hear what Gandalf might say.

"What do you mean?" asked the confused Wizard.

"Now that people know, it's only a matter of time before word spreads," Bilbo said, panicked. "And soon all the other races of Arda would be traveling to the Shire to see me." Bilbo had less concern for himself and more for the Hobbits of the Shire. The shire was founded to be a safe haven for the Hobbits, a place they could be safe from the evils of the outside world. And Bilbo may have just condemned Hobbits it a life of  constantly dealing with strangers traversing through their land.

"Not necessarily," Gandalf said, confusing him and his parents by the look of it. "I don't see why the Hobbits can't keep this a secret." Gandalf looked pointedly at him. "It wouldn't be the first time."

Dalco, Bilbo mind quickly supplied him with. Very few knew of his existence, and even fewer were alive to this day.

"Do you honestly think they would keep this a secret after seeing what I did?" Bilbo wryly said.

"What you did Bilbo Baggins was save their lives, twice if your mother's letter is anything to go by. The Hobbits only needed to be reminded of that."

"They are not going to listen to me," Bilbo sadly said.

"As a Helper to the Valar, one is expected to listen to whatever you have to say. But," Gandalf said, halting his protest, "you and I will agree that it isn't the right time to exact your authority. However, I will be more than happy to speak on your behalf, and I'm sure the Thain would be more happy to help me convince the people of the Shire to keep your secret. All will work out fine, Bilbo," Gandalf reassuringly told him.

Bilbo certainly hoped so.

~ ❇ ~

When it came time to face the Hobbits, Bilbo couldn't muster the courage to do so and was immensely grateful when Gandalf supported his decision to stay home, giving the excuse that it would be unnerving if Bilbo was present at the meeting.

Now, sitting alone and looking at clear skies from his bedroom window, Bilbo strongly wished he had gone with his parents and Gandalf. Maybe his plea would be more genuine if it had come from his mouth? But that mattered little at the moment. Bilbo tiredly dragged himself to his bed and threw himself onto it with a great big sigh, face buried deep into his duvet while tuning out the words of comfort coming from the tree on top of Bag End.

In all honesty, Bilbo was restless because he was afraid of everything not working out. The Hobbits could care less about what he had done to save them and more with how he did it.

"Bilbo," a voice called out, and he flung himself out of bed and rushed off to the front door.

"That was faster than I had thought," Bilbo admitted as his parent were taking off their coats. Gandalf was still wearing his gray robe, and Bilbo could honestly say he had never seen the Wizard without it.

"It took far little convincing than necessary," his father said, clasping a hand on his shoulder and giving him a bright smile. Bilbo felt his worries easy away, and he returned the smile. It looked like he was wrong--the other Hobbits did care about him saving them. 

"Like I said, Bilbo, all will work out in the end," Gandalf said, and Bilbo glanced over to see the amused Wizard.

"So, they'll keep my secret?" Bilbo asked, regardless of already having confirmation. Gandalf nodded. "And what about me?"

"They have promised to treat you as nothing but a Baggins of Bag End. You will forever remain Bilbo Baggins to them."

Bilbo released sigh of relief before nodding at Gandalf.

"Great," his mother exclaimed, clapping her hands together, "now you can help me with dinner."

Bilbo groaned as the others chuckled at him. And just like that things went back to normal. And Bilbo was thankful for that. His life in the Shire was not over.

~ ❇ ~

Bilbo should have known better than to assume all was well. Nothing was fine as he watched with horror written on his face as Marigold Brandybuck instinctively pulled her daughter closer to her. Bilbo wasn't sure who was more shocked by her action: him or her. Marigold didn't apologize or said anything. She hurriedly took her confused daughter's hand and scampered down the now cleared paths.

The snow had finally melted away leaving wet, soaked land. The air was warmer as well, and while many would just be happy for the warm weather, Bilbo and the trees around him knew it was an early sign of an early spring. So, why did he suddenly feel so cold inside?

"Ignore her," a voice said from behind him. Bilbo spun around to find Falco and Hamfast standing behind him. Flaco was frowning a something behind him--Marigold, no doubt--while Hamfast gave him a hesitant smile. There were in similar dark brown coats, but they didn't not obscure the fact that they had lost plenty of weight--their cheeks were less plump, and their coats hung loosely on their bodies.

Many Hobbits had lost a lot of weight from being sick and from fearing for their lives when the snow came and when the wolves did. And the presence of Orcs didn't help the matter at all.

"Don't you all have better things to do," Falco said in an irritated voice to the gathering Hobbits. "You're all acting as if you had never seen Bilbo Baggins before." Many of the Hobbits that had gathered in the main market square looked shamefaced while some were glaring at Falco. Bilbo also counted too many hero worshipping in too many small faces. "Come on," Falco said, looping his arm with Bilbo's and dragging him off, all the while mumbling about 'nosy Hobbits who can seem to keep their word."

Bilbo didn't get a single word in before realizing they were heading to Esmeralda and Saradoc's smial. Falco didn't even bother knocking and dragged Bilbo off to the kitchen. It was close to luncheon, so it shouldn't be much of a surprise the two of them would be there.

Esmeralda was at the sink in a white dress with vines and roses embroidered on it. She looked healthier than the other Hobbits Bilbo had seen at the market. Bilbo could only assumed she had been spared the flu. Saradoc was at the table in the center of the kitchen, reading the newspaper. And like Esmeralda, he looked quite healthy in his crème colored dress shirt. Bilbo sent a silent 'thank you' to the Green Lady.

Saradoc looked away from his paper to raise an inquisitive eyebrow while Esmeralda quickly dried her hands off, and it was only now that Bilbo noticed she was washing some vegetables.

"I wondered when we will be seeing you," she said, walking up to him with a fond smile. Bilbo felt his insides finally warm up with the love he felt for his dear friend. She then smacked the back of Falcon's head. "I have a doorbell for a reason." Falco smiled sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his head. "We could have been indecent for all you know."

"Ugh," Hamfast said in disgust. "I'm pretty sure we agreed not to talk about our sex lives." He then took a seat across from Saradoc. "Especially since the two of you refused to have anyone but the other."

"Are you and Bell no longer wrestling under the sheet?" Saradoc amusingly asked, eyes back on his newspaper.

"Okay, that's enough," Bilbo quickly said when Hamfast looked ready to give a lengthy protest.

"Don't worry, Bilbo," Esmeralda commiserated, patting his shoulder, "you'll be able to contribute some day."

"What ever did happen not the sweet, innocent Hobbit lass who wanted to pick flowers?" Bilbo said in mock lamentation.

"She met the son of a Took and a Baggins who thought it would be a good idea to mix blood." Bilbo halfheartedly glared at her, and she smiled sweetly at him. "Now come help me with the soup I'm making."

"Why is everyone always asking me to cook with them?" Bilbo sullenly said, following her it the stove with the large pot on it.

"Because you'll actually help," she said, getting the vegetables from the sink. "And because you're not bad at it."

"I'm not very good at it either," he griped.

"But you're good at it, which translates to you being better than most of the other races," she easily refuted. "Besides, most Hobbits have spent years learning the art of cooking. You, on the other hand, had more important things to worry about." It was Bilbo's turn to smile sheepishly at her. He was glad she had grown out of her näive self and paid more attention to those around her.

She warmly smiled back at him, and they turned this focus on making much while the other three busied themselves with small talk and setting the table when the soup was done.

"I want to thank you guys for not treating me any differently," Bilbo said before they started eating.

"Well, we did promise," Falco said.

"And to us you're still Bilbo," Hamfast finished, giving Bilbo a somewhat apologetic smile. Bilbo smiled back his forgiveness because it was a lot to take in at the time. He couldn't fault Hamfast for reacting badly.

"Frankly, I don't know why you would think we would treat you any differently," Esmeralda scoffed. "You have always been odd--this simply explains a few thing." She then snorted. "The Green Lady had given you many things, but common sense definitely wasn't one of them."

Bilbo mildly glared at her while the others chortled around him. She grinned back at him, un-reprimanded. And Bilbo felt himself fully relax for the first time in weeks. Sitting here, laughing and eating with all his friends was what he needed, especially after what he was going to do.

It was until many hours later that Bilbo finally decided to leave. His parents would worry, considering how dark it was getting.

"Thank you again for everything," Bilbo said as he buttoned up his coat.

"Don't worry about it," Saradoc said, waving off his gratitude.

"Yes," Esmeralda agreed, showing him to the door. "We should do it again sometime." Even in the dim light, Bilbo could see the sadness around her eyes. He should have known she would have guessed what was going on in his mind. They had always been the closest.

"Absolutely," Bilbo fervently said. "But during a happier time."

"Most certainly. Happier times." There was a slight pause. "Hopefully, that would come sooner that expected."

"One can only wish for the best and see what happens."

"Goodbye, Bilbo."

"Goodbye, Esmeralda," Bilbo fondly said then to Saradoc. "Take care of each other."

"We will," Saradoc sadly promised him, finally catching on to what was happening. "Goodbye, Bilbo."

Bilbo gave them one finally 'goodbye' before pulling his coat closer to his body and walking off into the cold, dark night, blocking out the stinging wind and mouth-less whispers.

When Bilbo got to Bag End, he headed straight for the sitting room, where he was sure to find his parents and Gandalf. Lo and behold, they were all there. His father and Gandalf were hunched over a chessboard while his mother was knitting what appeared to be mittens.

"Bilbo," she suddenly said when she noticed him, eye raking over his body for any form of distress. "Where--"

"I want to go back to Rivendell."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the next chapter, things will start to pick up.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	5. Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo leaves for Rivendell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, but school is taking up too much of my freetime.  
> Enjoy.

"What?" his mother said, frowning at him. And it was only then his father and Gandalf noticed his presence and tore their eyes away from the chessboard to stare at him in surprise. Bilbo knew how much concentration went into a simple game of chess, but surely they would have at least heard him come in.

"I said, I want to go back to Rivendell," Bilbo firmly repeated, more for the other two males in the room than for his mother's sake.

"Why?" his father desperately asked while Gandalf narrowed his eyes at Bilbo, assessing him. Bilbo didn't know if Gandalf knew what had transpired earlier, or he had expected it and was looking for confirmation. Knowing Gandalf, it was probably the latter, which would explain the little burst of anger Bilbo felt deep inside him. A little warning would have nice.

"People are uncomfortable," Bilbo answered, studying Gandalf and observing how he tiredly sighed. Yes, a little warning would have gone a long way. Bilbo derisively snorted. Wizards.

"Of course, people are uncomfortable," his mother said, going back to his knitting. "It hasn't been that long since all of the Shire found out what your are--they still need time to get used to this." His father nodded along with every words. So the promised they made were just empty words, Bilbo wanted to asked.

"Maybe I made the wrong choice of words," Bilbo said instead. "Hobbits are scared of me."

His mother paused in her needle work, his father widened his eyes, and Gandalf tiredly sighed again. Gandalf and he were going to have a lengthy talk after this was over.

"That's ridiculous, Bilbo," his father said in a disbelieving tone. Bilbo couldn't blame him for being skeptical. He himself didn't think Hobbits would fear one of their own--Yavanna's chosen Helper at that. But given Bilbo's time outside the Shire and the time since this morning, Bilbo was beginning to lose his surprise. Next to Dwarrows, Hobbits were extremely averse to change. Actually, Bilbo could no longer make that claim. For some odd number of decades, Dwarrows had undergo a staggering amount of change: they had made peace with the Elves, traded more gems and precious metals than ever before, and even took to venturing out more into the world rather than lock themselves away into their mountain. Bilbo had constantly asked why they sudden change but was always met with shrugged shoulders and vague responses, like metaphors about stones changing with time and Bilbo's favorite--they were precious gems refining themselves underground until it was time for them to emerge and show their beauty to the world.

Sometimes, Bilbo really wanted to hit Gandalf with his staff, like right now when he wasn't offering any support whatsoever.

"I thought so, too, until Marigold pulled her daughter closed to her when she saw me, like I was a few seconds away from summoning a swarm of bees to attack the Shire," Bilbo said, sarcasm and irritation mixed in one.

"She never did like bees," his father mused, unaware Bilbo was glaring at him.

"Marigold always overreacts to things, Bilbo. You know that?" his mother reminded him in a poor attempt to divert his anger away from his father.

"Then what is your excuse for the rest of them?" Bilbo wryly asked.

Gandalf had returned his focus onto the chessboard. His staff was nowhere to be seen. But Bilbo was sure his anger was visible for all to see.

"The rest of them?" his father asked while his mother simply stated, "Explain." They were finally making some progress. Bilbo briskly informed them of what happened at the market square and mentioned where he had been, so they wouldn't assume he hid himself in the cold, bare forest, though the thought had crossed his mind.

"This still doesn't explain why you would want to return to Rivendell," his father told him.

"And yet it does," his mother thoughtfully said, and the two older men looked at her in surprised--or as much as a Wizard could looks surprised--while Bilbo relaxed and calmed his irritation down. He would let his mother explain it to them. He dragged a chair from the corner of the room and dropped onto it with a exhausted huff. His mother rolled her eyes at him before continuing. "In most of the Hobbits' minds, Bilbo is merely a sign of bad things to come. It doesn't matter that he saved them--he's a constant reminder there's evil in the world, and wherever he is, evil is sure to follow."

"That is preposterous," his father angrily shouted, shooting out if his seat. "Bilbo is not a beacon to all things evil!"

"Well, we know that to be true," she replied, "but the Hobbits don't. And personally, I blame that on our reluctance to go farther than our own backyards. If we had gone farther, we would have learned that a Helper is only needed once for a specific task greater than us all, not as a constant vigil for every impending doom. Each new threat requires a new Helper." She sat back farther into her seat, arms crossed and livid. "If they had gone farther, they would see evil doesn't limit itself to the foul beast of Arda."

"Why don't we just tell them that?" his father suggested.

"You can certainly try," Bilbo responded, pinching the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on, "but in the minds of most, I did bring evil to them. First, there was the heavy snow then the flu, the Brandywine freezing over, wolves attacking us and finally Orcs and wargs invading the Shire."

At times like these, Bilbo couldn't help but wonder if the Helpers did attract evil. Their very existence was indicative of evil still existing in Arda. Maybe the Valar made them to attract evil rather than have them seek it out like they had done in the beginning.

His father unceremoniously plopped down on his seat. "What are we going to do?" he asked to no one in specific.

"We are not going to do anything," Bilbo fervidly said. "I'm going to Rivendell. Alone. And Gandalf," Bilbo added when Gandalf opened his mouth, causing him to snap it shut.

"Absolutely not," his father replied, vigorously shaking his head.

"Yes," Bilbo refuted. "I'm not a child, father. I can take care of myself. And why should we all leave? They only have a problem with me, not the two of you."

"You are not going to Rivendell by yourself." Gandalf had finally relinquished all his attention to them, only to look affronted by the assumption he was an unsuitable escort...or that he was completely ignored. Bilbo wasn't sure which one it was. "And why can't you stay here? Show people that you aren't a threat."

Bilbo headache was rapidly building as was his frustration that his father wasn't understanding why he needed to go.  His mother was strangely silent, and Bilbo looked at her for help. She offered none, lost in her thoughts.

"Because the Shire wasn't meant to be a place filled with fear, and I refuse to stay here at let it become that," Bilbo admitted. His father opened his mouth to refute what Bilbo said but abruptly shut his mouth and rubbed his face with his hand. "I'm not going away forever, just until people realize how ridiculous they're being. And I don't want the two of you to have to follow me because firstly, I am an adult and can take care of myself and secondly, because this is your home, and you shouldn't be forced to leave it." Like you had to before, Bilbo wanted to say.

Their first trip the Rivendell was because his powers had forced them to seek out answers. Now, fear of what his powers could do was forcing them to abandon it again. He especially didn't want his father to leave the home he had built for his mother.

While Bilbo didn't want to leave his home, he didn't want the look of fear to be associated with his powers. He had seen what wonderful and beautiful things  he could do with his powers, and fear should never be centered around them. He could only hope in time the other Hobbits could see that.

"Fine," his mother suddenly said. "If that's what you want then you have our blessings, but," she stressed when Bilbo was about to proclaim his gratitude, "we're coming with you and staying until you're settled in."

Bilbo enthusiastically nodded. It was a fair compromise and a step towards treating him like an adult.

"And we expect to letters as often as possible," his father decisively added. Bilbo nodded, less than thrilled this time. "And we will be visiting every chance we get."

Bilbo expected the last condition and would have been extremely upset if they didn't visit him as often as possible.

"Now that everything is settled, we will leave once spring sets in," his mother announced, "which shouldn't be too long according to Bilbo."

And Bilbo had been right. No less than three weeks later, spring had set in. All the snow Hobbiton had seen was all melted, leaving not a speck of white for miles. Hobbits had taken this time to venture out of their simal to repair the damage down by both the attack on the Shire and the peculiar amount of snow.The trees were waking up one by one with tiny buds covering them. They had also taken to greeting him again...well, whenever he did leave home.

Bilbo barely left his house for fear of being scorned by the other Hobbits. And it was fine by him--it gave him the opportunity to pick out what he wanted to take with him to Rivendell, which consist mainly of books, trousers and shirts. He had more formal clothing at Rivendell, and he could also commission more if he needed them.

Astonishingly, his parents had stuck to their promise, only packing clothing  for a month's journey. They focused most of their time on getting him ready and helping him pack up the wagon with what they would need for the journey.

Perhaps the most baffling behavior Bilbo had seen during preparation was from Gandalf. If Bilbo didn't know better, he would say the Wizard was pleased and excited about his decision to leave the Shire. The reason as to why was anyone's guess. Bilbo was tempted to try and  weasel out an answers from Gandalf, but Bilbo knew Gandalf would avoid answering or avoid Bilbo all together. Whatever Gandalf's reasoning was, Bilbo trusted Gandalf enough to keep him from harm and to tell him things when he needed to be told them.

When it came time to leave, the four of them left at daybreak to avoid any spectator, though all of Hobbiton knew in some way they were planning on leaving. The specific day was, however, kept a secret. Or so Bilbo thought until he wagon he was steering past a rolling hill with four Hobbits standing on the top.

"I told them when we were leaving," his mother told him from her spot next to him. Bilbo paid his mother no mind as he waved back to Esmeralda, Saradoc, Falco, and Hamfast. Esmeralda was the only one with smile on her face while the three man looked solemnly at him. Regardless, Bilbo shot them a bright smile and waved one final time before looking forward at the slowly rising son. Bilbo meant what he said: he would return, and it would be during happier times. They all simply needed to hang on a bit longer.

They silently traveled on horseback then sped up after lunch, wanting to reduce the distance as much as possible before nightfall. The sooner they got to Rivendell the more relaxed Bilbo would feel. After all, being respected against his will was better than be regarded with fear. And Bilbo hoped getting faster to Rivendell would cause Gandalf to relax because he was fidgeting more than ever and kept shooting him sidelong glances the entire ride. However, Bilbo learned the reason for his distress--if one would classify it as such--when they made camp for the night.

"Bilbo, why haven't you been using your powers?" Gandalf asked, taking a seat next to Bilbo on the log in front of the fire.

"Because I have traveled all over Arda, and not once have I done it without my powers," Bilbo answered as he watched his father tend to the horses and as his mother added chopped vegetables to the soup she was making.

"Why ever would you need to do that?" Gandalf asked, sounding truly bewildered but Bilbo's reasoning.

"To prove to myself that I can do it," Bilbo seriously replied. "And I haven't been neglecting my powers," Bilbo quickly added when Gandalf looked ready to protest. "I have been conversing with the trees and the small animals we have passed along the way, and I have kept myself open to the earth around me." Bilbo finally tore his eyes away from his parents to look at Gandalf. "I highly doubt I can ever stop using my powers, but I can refrain from using them to make our travels seem like a walk through our garden." Part of Bilbo meant what he said quite literally. He wouldn't force the world around him to awaken.

Gandalf sighed but didn't persuade him to use his powers more. Gandalf merely took his eyes off of Bilbo and focused on Bilbo's parents. After some time and as Bilbo get used to the warm, night air surrounding them, Gandalf finally spoke up, annoying Bilbo more than surprising him. "Why don't you tell them?"

Bilbo snorted and wryly responded, "You saw how much of a fuss they put up when I wanted to stay in Rivendell for some time."

"They'll understand, Bilbo."

"I know them. They wouldn't understand," Bilbo avidly defended.

"As do I, Bilbo," Gandalf softly said when his mother looked over to them. "And I know they would understand. They understand more than you might think."

Bilbo smiled sweetly at his mother, who wildly smiled back. Gandalf was wrong. His parents had no idea, and he made sure of that. "I promise to practice for at least an hour everyday, Gandalf," Bilbo said, redirecting the conversation back to whom Gandalf had seated himself next to him.

Gandalf sighed in defeat but pressed the matter no further, something that continued to the point where they found themselves standing at the entrance to Rivendell.  

"Erestor," Bilbo happily greeted the dark-haired Elf with a hug, who returned it with equal force. "What a pleasant surprise seeing you here." Bilbo smiled up at the Elf, who face was without a single wrinkle and set in the all too familiar stoic expression. Not much had changed since Bilbo last saw him, save for the fact he had his hair tied in a ponytail. "Has Glorfindel been shirking on his duty again?"

The normally stoic Elf rolled his eyes before smiling slightly at Bilbo. "For once, that isn't the case," Erestor told him. It was quite telling how Erestor could never stop there fondness from permeating his voice. It was even more telling how the fondness never appeared when Glorfindel was present. "Glorfindel had been put in charge of seeing to your rooms," Erestor continued. At Bilbo's confused expression, he added, "Gandalf had sent word you would traveling to Rivendell." Bilbo shouldn't be as surprised as he was, yet the surprise was still there. "And the forest and its inhabitants have been quite active as of yesterday."

Bilbo blushed in embarrassment under Erestor's pointed look. News of his arrival traveled quicker than he expected. Either his field of awareness was getting wider, or the plants and animal around him were getting better at spreading gossip. Bilbo was betting on the latter.

"Lead the way then," Bilbo said, grateful that Erestor didn't bow but let them through the entrance.

Similarly to Erestor, Rivendell hadn't changed much. It was still as magnificent as ever...and as large as ever. Looking up and around him, Bilbo had truly forgotten how small he was compared to the outside world. The ceiling of the entryway would take at least five of him to reach it. Rivendell was still as green as ever, even though the land surrounding it was now regaining it's greenery. The water gushing out of the waterfalls and running around the bridges of Rivendell was as clear as ever. Rivendell certainly wasn't Bag End, but it was home in its own way. The same could be said about the other Elven kingdoms.

"Bilbo Baggins," a familiar voice drew his head down and away from his admiration of the designs around him. He could never get used to seeing them.

"Lord Elrond," Bilbo greeted, smiling at him and Glorfindel and Lindir, who were standing on either side of him. Elrond was in a silver colored Elvish robes with a matching circlet, looking as regal as ever and even more so when the low hanging sun gave his black hair a warm golden tint. Lindir was in red robes with his hair hanging loose like Elrond and with the same golden tint. Glorfindel was in black robes, so similar to the ones Erestor was wearing with hair the polar opposite of Erestor. Bilbo barely resisted rolling his eyes at the grinning Elf.

"No need for titles, Bilbo," Elrond slightly admonished. "Not when we're all friends here." He glided over to give Bilbo a bug before turning his sights on the others, giving Bilbo's mother a hug then handshakes to Gandalf and Bilbo's father. "Come," Elrond said when all the greetings were dealt with, "you must rest for the fest tonight."

Bilbo was paying very little attention to him. Something else had captured his attention. "Elrond," Bilbo said, confused, as he listened to the chattering robins on a nearby tree and causing everyone to stop and look back at him in confusion, "why are there Dwarrows in Rivendell?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know when the next chapter will be up, seeing as I have two papers to write for next week and a ton of reading. Hopefully, I'll find time. Fingers crossed.


	6. The Dwarrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo meets an interesting dwarrowdam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm procrastinating. Stop looking at me like that. Stop it.

Bilbo patiently waited, but Elrond continued to stare blankly at him, though Bilbo could see his mind was working to come up with a plausible explanation. The mere fact Elrond needed to come up with an explanation or excuse--Bilbo was going to call it such--was troubling and downright unnecessary.

"I would explain why I'm not being swarmed by herds of Elves at the moment," Bilbo pensively said. "Having Dwarrows in Rivendell at this times of year is quite the occasion."

Elrond's face was smoothed out, without a trace of what he was thinking now. Bilbo would have paid it no mind, but he knew Elrond. And when Elrond and Gandalf were both showing very little emotions, something was wrong, or they were hiding something.

Elrond therm gave him a gentle smile. "Everything is fine, Bilbo," Elrond tried to reassure him. "The Dwarrows are here as a sign of peace and continued relation between the two races."

"I had no idea there was any animosity between the two kingdoms to begin with," Bilbo smoothly remarked. While the Dwarrows and Elves had never fully seen eye to eye, Rivendell and Erebor had never held a grudge against the other. So, why was there an envoy of peace in Rivendell? Even more important, why Elrond and Gandalf were giving each other sidelong glances?

"Bilbo," Gandalf said, walking up to him, "you have had a long journey. You need to rest, not to concern yourself with politics. And since when has it become a crime to send an envoy as a sign of respect to show that the other side still value the relationship held between them." Plausible, but Gandalf was deflecting.

"Gandalf," Bilbo calmly said, "my grandfather is Thain of the Shire, and my father has helped him with legal work for years, so I have been surrounded by politics for many years. And though I may not care very much for it, it certainly wouldn't stress me out to hear about it. And need I remind you, I have traveled farther than Rivendell, but--" he held his hand up to stop the incoming protest, "--I could use a bath and a place to lift my feet up."

Bilbo wasn't too keen on pressing the issue any further since they would both clamor up before he could get anything out of them. Besides, given how chatty the beings of Rivendell were, it was only a matter of time before he found out why the Dwarrows were in Rivendell. Also given how the royal family and Elrond's trusted advisors were constantly with him throughout the day, he knew it was a finite amount of time before he met with the queen of Erebor. The thought of finally meeting one of the few Dwarrows--and his first one at that-- who held a love for plants and Elves had Bilbo happily following the rest to where their rooms are.

His room was just as he remembered it: polished brown stone floors and walls that had various animals, plants and trees carved into them to make his room seem more like the outside world than anything else, white linen curtains to drape the many windows the room had and for the balcony as well, and a large bed with silky green and white sheets. Bilbo had protested to have such an extravagant room, but Elrond would not have him sleeping in a closed off section of the kingdom, if that was possible.

"Your bath is ready, Master Bilbo" the she-elf said. Bilbo swirled around to thank the blonde haired Elf. Elrond had sent word ahead to get their baths ready. Bilbo knew better to keep his mouth shut when Elrond wanted to play the perfect host. He also kept his mouth shut about the title. It was the Elves' way to giving respect without having to bow before him. Even if he told the Elves to stop, they would find some other way to compensate.

"Thank you," he said, and she nodded her head once before gliding out of the room. Bilbo sighed before walking into the bathroom, which had similar design it his bedroom, expect with white wall and more reflective of the sky and its inhabitants. There was large, circular floor tub, too big for just him but shallow enough that he wouldn't drown. Bilbo quickly stripped down and got into tub filled with warm water.

He slowly exhaled as the warmth seeped into his tired bones. While he may have traveled great miles, Bilbo certainly wasn't fond of how tired his bones got after sitting for so long, which was why he preferred walking. Bilbo added the lavender scented bath oil laid out with the soap and pitcher of hot water to the bath and relaxed, thinking if he should asked the animals of Rivendell what was happening or if he should left things play out.

Less than hour later, after having successful relaxed and scrubbed clean, Bilbo finally left to bathroom only to roll his eyes at the contents on his bed. Sitting on his bed were a pair of white trousers with a white shirt. Next to them were gold Elvish robes and white slacks that looked new and strangely his exact size--more conforming and less free flowing, too. Either Elrond and a vision of him, or Gandalf had been informing Elrond of more than his decision to stay in Rivendell. Whatever the case may be, it appeared Bilbo was meeting the queen sooner than he thought.

Shaking his head at the ridiculousness of the Wizard and Elf lord, Bilbo ambled up to the bed and quickly got into the what he assumed would be his new night clothes. If Elrond was trying to make him feel more relaxed and at home, he was doing a terrible job at it. He then put his bathrobe with his dirty clothes in the bathroom, knowing someone would tend to them because Valar forbid he washed his own clothes.

As Bilbo settled under the soft sheet, Bilbo thought about how Elrond meant well by not wanting those he saw as family to not have to want for things, but Bilbo liked doing things for himself. Though he was slightly miffed, Bilbo couldn't stop the fond smile from appearing on his face. It was nice to see the Elves again, not matter how brief. And it was nice to not feel so suffocated. With that, Bilbo slowly drifted off to sleep. A short nap was what he need if he was going to have to deal with Elrond and Gandalf avoiding his question since he planned on seeing how long they could keep the reason for the Dwarrows being here a secret.

~ ❇ ~

Bilbo was trying extremely hard not to show that he was in any way curious about the four empty seats at Elrond's table, which wasn't a difficult task, seeing as he was trying to get used to wearing Elven robes again. They were always a little stiffer than Hobbit clothing, though the robe he was wearing was less constricting this time around. Bilbo was envious of his father's robe, which a rich green color and only went up to his thigh and looked to be made of a thin fabric. His mother was in a white gown made of the same fabric, embroidered with green thread to match his father's clothing.

A horrifying thought occurred to Bilbo, but before he could open his mouth, the door leading into the room opened. Bilbo's snapped his head to the side to see four Dwarrows enter. At the helm was a female Dwarf--or so Bilbo assumed from who they were waiting for and from what he knew about Dwarrows. She had a long face with soft features and a sharp nose. Her eyes were the color of emeralds, only a shade darker than his own eyes. Her long golden hair hung down her hip with braids on either side of her face. Her beard was short and properly groomed. She was dressed in a black Elvish dressed that made her hair and fair skin stand out more.

Next to her was a male Dwarf of a similar age with a large nose and even larger ears but a kind face. He had dark eyes and a thick head of dark hair and beard, the latter was curved at bottom. He was dressed in dark-red, leather armor with fur lining the shoulder and with thick black leather boots. The Dwarf next to him was dressed in a similar fashion but had an Axe instead of a sword and looked much younger with thick fiery-red hair and braids in his beard. Unlike the first, his features were harder and less inviting, though they had similar noses. Maybe they were family, Bilbo though. Lastly, handing back away from the rest was a Dwarf who had the hair on his face and head styled in the shape of a star. Bilbo's eyebrows met his hairline, and the Dwarf smirked at him, making Bilbo want squirm a little. There was something different about this Dwarf. Bilbo held his head high and fearlessly stared back.

Bilbo got up when Elrond did and watched as Elrond went over to greet his guests.

"Queen Dimia," Elrond cheerful greeted. "How lovely of you to join us." Elrond took her hand and kissed it. The other Dwarrows weren't too happy by his action by the look of it, but they kept quiet. Bilbo suppressed a smile. How far they had come.

"Thank you for having me," the queen said, her eyes flickering from Elrond's face to Bilbo to the others present. By the queen's confusion, Bilbo gathered Glorfindel and Erestor were never present when she was with Elrond. There was recognition when she saw Lindir and Gandalf, then again, who didn't know Gandalf.

"Come," Elrond instructed, leading her by hand to the empty spot at the head of the table and across from Bilbo. The two Dwarrows, who Bilbo assumed were related, followed closely behind while the last took a seat next to seat next to Gandalf, who was seated next to the free space across from Bilbo's mother. The Dwarrows stood in front of the three empty seats before Bilbo and his parents, eyeing the Hobbits with curiosity and suspicion. Bilbo's hackle rose slightly. They were the ones visiting Rivendell in early spring when they had no particular reason to even be here.

"May I present to you three dear friends of mine," Elrond proudly announced, cutting of his growing irk.

"Bungo Baggins, at your service, your majesty," his father respectfully said with a bow. "And my wife, Belladonna Baggins."

His mother bowed. "At your service, your majesty."

"And my son, Bilbo Baggins," his father said with more pride in his voice than Elrond, warming Bilbo from the inside.

"Your majesty," Bilbo said with a bow.

"Dimia, daughter of Farár, at your service," she kindly said and smiled at them, and her two bodyguards had yet to relax. "My nephews, Balin, son of Fudin--" the older Dwarf bowed, "--and Glóin son of Gróin." The redhead Dwarf bowed, not once letting go of his axe. Bilbo wanted to roll his eyes. There unarmed Hobbits weren't going to do anything. And Elrond had no intention of causing a war, so their fear was unwarranted. She turned to the last Dwarf. "And my spymaster, Nori, son of Góri." The spymaster bowed to them.

Nephews would certainly explain the resemblance, but it would seem from her husband's side of the family since she looked nothing like them. And spymaster would explain why the Dwarf was so shifty, though Bilbo could sense there was more to tell.

After they took their seat, the older Dwarf--Balin--spoke up. "I can see what all the excitement is about," he kindly said. "Three Hobbits so far away from the Shire is cause for much chatter."

Bilbo had to smirk down at his plate as Elrond narrowed his eyes at the Elves serving them. If it he wouldn't have gained him funny looks, Bilbo would have laughed at how the Elves avoided their Lord's gaze. Elrond should have expected as much. Bilbo wasn't worried, though, since he knew the Elves would never use his true title. Master Bilbo was as far as it would get.

"Indeed," Bilbo calmly said. "Had Elrond learn of our arrival, all the chatter would have been dealt with sooner." Balin furrowed his brows in confusion while Elrond and Gandalf looked seconds away from banging their heads on the table. Even though the two of them had been corresponding, their arrival was earlier than expected, according to the birds of Rivendell. Bilbo felt a little regretful for telling the small inhabitants of Rivendell to stay away for tonight. He could use a little more Intel but was sticking to his plan.

"Yet highly unprecedented," Gandalf quickly interjected. "Hobbits have traveled outside the Shire plenty of times. And if I am not mistaken, Hobbits have been trading with the Dwarrows of the Blue Mountains for centuries now." Gandalf looked pointedly at him.

Bilbo stared blankly back. What? He hadn't given anything away. Besides, if they didn't want him to attract the attention of the Dwarrows, they shouldn't have dressed him up. Frankly, Bilbo never understood why they were always so overprotective of him when it came to Dwarrows. All he had ever learned about Dwarrows had been from book or accounts from Elves. He was bound to meet up with them at some point in time. Arda was smaller than people believed. As the embodiment of the land itself, he would know.

Bilbo looked away from Gandalf to thank the Elf who served him. Bilbo tucked in a napkin into his collar and digged into the spiced vincent before. From the clattering knives and fork, the others had done the same.

"You're quite calm for someone who is in the presence of royalty," Queen Dimia remarked after some time, appraising him. Confusion swept through him for a few seconds.

"I have gotten used to it, your majesty," Bilbo truthfully told her, or as close to the truth as he could get. Getting upset would only cause the trees and plants around him to wilt and cause the animals to become distress themselves. And no one wanted distressed animals hissing and barking and chirping at them. Many of the Elves would attest to that fact.

She raised an expectant eyebrow, and he continued, "Elrond constantly entertains the other Elven rulers, so you could say I'm used to seeing royalty." Bilbo smiled sweetly at her and got a sweeter smile in return. Gandalf and Elrond were worried for nothing. The Dwarf Queen was very kind and hardly seemed like a threat to him.

"You much be a dear friend indeed," she said.

"He's more like family," Elrond added, garnering her attention as Bilbo expected. He did roll his eyes this time and got a look uncertainty from Balin. Bilbo also surmised he was so calm around them because he was taught to fear nothing. He was a Helper and danger was something he had to accept, and he was also taught that no king or queen in all of Arda could do him any harm for fear of what the Valar would do to them in the afterlife. And he always thought of kings and queens as people with a little more responsibility than the rest of them.

"Really?" she asked, surprised and intrigued. Elrond looked worried, Gandalf looked slightly pleased, his mother looked thoughtful while the rest looked confused.

"Yes," Elrond finally said. "I have know Belladonna since she was a young lass and have come to care for her and her family a great deal."

"That is quite brave, to be the friend of the king," she told his mother.

"Bravery had nothing to do with it," his mother respectfully said, though Bilbo could see caution in her eyes. "We Hobbits hold little care for the title of king and queen, seeing as we don't have any, as you may may very well know. Elrond is merely an Elf whom I have met early on in my life and have come to call family. Family is far more important to Hobbits than titles."

"We Dwarrows value family above all else as well," Queen Dimia seriously said with admiration shining in her eyes. "I see where he gets it from."

Somehow, the conversion had taken a different turn than Bilbo was going for. He had every intention of subtle mentioning plants to get the queen talking. He had no idea how they got to discussing family. Bilbo really had no idea why Gandalf was smiling at Elrond's conceding look.

"He also inherited my stubbornness," his mother told her, smirking.

"Mum!" Bilbo shouted, affronted.

The queen smile got wider. "We Dwarrows can be quite stubborn ourselves."

Bilbo looked around to share in their confusion until he got to his father, who eyes were narrowed a bit towards the queen.

"Oh, I'm quite aware of the stubbornness of Dwarfs," his mother flippantly said. "You, your majesty, don't not know the stubbornness of a Hobbit."

"I'm beginning to," she said, smiling triumphantly.

"We'll see about that."

"We shall."

They returned to their dinners as if nothing and transpired between them. Bilbo shot Elrond a wide eyed look. Elrond simply shrugged and focused too intently on his food. Bilbo sighed in frustration and returned to his dinner, which became a quiet affair for the duration of the time they had left.

"Dinner was lovely as always, Elrond," Queen Dimia said when she was just about ready to retire to her room.

"Thank you," Elrond said, kissing her hand once again. "Perhaps I can walk you to your chambers."

"I would love that," she said while the redhead and the star-headed Dwarrows looked anything but pleased. The queen then turned her sights on Bilbo. "And perhaps the young Hobbits wouldn't mind joining me for tea in the gardens tomorrow?"

"I would love to," Bilbo quickly agreed, both surprised and pleased the queen wanted to have tea with him. He hadn't gotten a chance to talk to her all night. And now it looked like he was about to, a whole afternoon's worth.

"Excellent," she calmly said, though Bilbo could tell she was excited. He himself was giddy in the inside. The Dwarf queen actually wanted to get to know him. "Tomorrow afternoon?"

"Sounds perfect," Bilbo smiled at her. She nodded her head once and bid her goodbye to everyone present before being escorted out by Elrond. Bilbo looked around the room and felt his giddiness plummet. The elves were staring at him in bewilderment, Gandalf was still smiling, and his parents were lost in their own thoughts. His mother seemed greatly amused by her thoughts while his father looked apprehensive.

Bilbo disregarded their strange reaction to rekindle his growing excitement at having tea with a Dwarf, a Dwarf queen at that! Bilbo would finally learn about Dwarrows from an actual Dwarf!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter would probably be until next weekend. I say that now, and watch the next chapter comes out sooner.


	7. Tea Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea and talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look, it's Friday--a day before the weekend. Like I said the chapter would probably be out before the weekend, Lol.
> 
> Enjoy.

Belladonna smoothed down her dress one last time before looking up at the great wooden door before her. It was the same brown door her and Bungo's room had, but this door had a cypress tree curved into it unlike the oak tree on her and Bilbo's door. Elrond thought he was clever when he had commissioned those doors to be made and installed in their room as well as Bilbo's. She was relieved to see that her room had not gotten the same attention as Bilbo's room. The poor boy.

Speaking of which, her poor son was the reason she was here in the first place, staring at the door and ignoring the red headed Dwarf glaring at her from her left.

"You shouldn't be here," he gruffly said, swinging his axe and catching the handle with his other hand. 'Dwarfs,' she sardonically thought.

"I can assure you, Mister Dwarf, I am actually where I need to be," she firmly told him. Bilbo hadn't been the only one the Elves trained in the art of self-defense. And she could take him, axe or not.

The Dwarf stood up straighter, trying to make himself seem more imposing and contorting his face in an ugly scowl. "And I assure you otherwise," he menacingly said. Belladonna laughed, causing him to recoil back in utter bewilderment.

"I'm sorry, Mister Dwarf," she laughed, "but you might want to try than on someone who is actually scared of you." She paid no attention to his opened mouth expression and firmly knocked on the door, which caused the Dwarf to sputter.

"Who is it?" said a confused voice.

"It's Belladonna Baggins, Your Majesty," she loudly said to be sure the Queen heard her. The was no response, but the door opened, showing the Queen in a brown dress similar to the one she was wearing. Either Elrond was trying to prove something to the Dwarrows, or he really liked dressing them in finery.

The Queen smiled and said, "How can I help you?"

"I actually came to help you," Belladonna said, causing the Queen to raise an amused eyebrow at her. "I was going to let you try, but I thought better of it. I suggest you don't waste your time."

"You can't--" The Dwarf cut himself off and lowered his axe when Queen Dimia raised her hand.

"Bilbo has shown no interest in any Hobbit, male or female," Belladonna continued, noting how the Queen's eyes lit up. "So, I highly doubt Bilbo would be interested in any Dwarf, whoever he is."

"He," she calmly and proudly said, "would be my eldest son." The male Dwarf choked up.

Belladonna snorted. "And being a prince would interest him even less." The Queen smiled as wide as possible, and Belladonna felt her surprise overcame her.  Well, that was certainly interesting. She never intended to stay long, and the Queen made her stay even shorter. "Well," Belladonna remarked, sounding not as surprised as she felt, "I can see there is no convincing you. So, I'll take me leave."

"Wait," the Queen responded, confused, "you're not going to tell me to stay away from your son?"

"Why would I?" she pleasantly questioned. "I assume you plan on convincing him to travel with you to the Lonely Mountain?" The Queen dazedly nodded. "Well, Bilbo has always wanted to see the Lonely Mountain, so convincing him would take little effort, and having you as an escort would put my mind and his father's mind at ease." The Queen looked impressed. "You'd only need to concern yourself with the fallout if your plan falls through, seeing as you would not only upset Bilbo but the three Elf kingdom as well since they all care very dearly for him. You'd also have to deal with the Thain of the Shire, who happens to be Bilbo's grandfather and loves him very much."

"And what if I succeed?" the Queen asked, stoned faced.

"Then we would have a wedding to plan and two happy children, would we not?" Belladonna delightfully asked.

"Is Bilbo as cunning as you are?" she asked.

"Yes and no," Belladonna answered. "Bilbo's too honest to take advantage of people, but do not think for one second his kindness makes him näive or weak. He'd do anything for those he cares about." And he'd grown quite a lot after everything that had happened in the Shire. He'd grown more confident in himself, and what he was. He was no longer the sacred little Hobbit, whose powers frightened him.

"And that makes him all the more perfect," Queen Dimia.

"We'll have to see, won't we?"

"We shall." She then stared a little at Belladonna before saying, "I know you have little faith in me, but are you not worried that I might succeed, and he would have to live on the other side of Middle Earth."

"It's not that I don't have faith in you," Belladonna informed her, "it's just that I have seen countless Hobbits try to get my son's attention and failed. And I see this having the same outcome, but I do wish you luck. As for the other thing, my husband and I have known for a long time that our son's place isn't in the shire, and we've accepted that. We simply want him to be happy, no matter where he decides his happiness lies."

"I, too, want the same for my son, and for both our sakes and that of our children, I pray they find it in each other," the Queen fervently stated.

Belladonna smiled to herself. "Good day, Your Majesty," Belladonna respectfully said with a bow.

"It's Dimia, Belladonna," she told Belladonna. "After all, we'll end up as family one day."

Belladonna kindly smiled at her even though she was laughing on the inside. "Dimia," she said then smirked to the male Dwarf. "Good day to you, too, Mister Glóin."

She didn't wait for his response and strode off to find her husband and son for Luncheon. She truly did wish the Dwarf Queen luck. Maybe she would've an easier time convincing Bilbo to marry her son than the other Hobbits had? Hmm? Maybe a Dwarf was what Bilbo needed? Only time would tell.

❧

"Thorin's going to kill you," Glóin remarked the second Belladonna had turned around the corner.

"Thorin'll be too happy with me to want to kill me, dear nephew," she cheerfully said, making him scoff.

"Yes, because every Dwarf wants his mother meddling in his love life," he dryly stated. She didn't bother rolling her eyes at him. She was, however, disappointed that Glóin didn't see what Balin and she had seen in Bilbo. "And with a Hobbit no doubt!" he shouted in disbelieving and humorous manner, angering her.

"What wrong with him being a Hobbit?" Dimia tightly said, glaring at her nephew. She had worked hard to encourage her subjects to relinquish their disdain for Elves, and she would not have them redirecting that hatred to any other race, especially a race that had provided food to the Blue Mountains and had sent grains to Dale and Erebor when the harvest gave very little. And most certainly, she would not have such a behavior from her own family.

"Nothing's wrong with the Hobbit," he quickly reassured her, clearly seeing her anger. "What I meant to say, um, was that Thorin's met Hobbits before, and he hasn't shown them any interest-Mahal's Hammer, Thorin hasn't shown anyone!"

'Just like Bilbo,' her mind supplied, but instead she said, "Bilbo's different."

Bilbo was so unlike the other Hobbits she'd come across. Bilbo was braver and more adventurous than the other Hobbits she'd met. It was remarkable to see one of such a timid race venture off to an Elven kingdom and converse with a king so causally--no, not one but all three of the Elven kings. In addition to his bravery and adventurous nature, Bilbo was very pleasing to the eye. There was a certain golden glow to his skin that made it seem like he was constantly bathed in the warm and inviting glow of the rising sun. His hair was a thick mass of wavy, golden red clusters which seemed to shine right along with his glowing skin. He was slimmer than most Hobbits, and his tightly fitted robes accentuated his future, showcasing how muscular his arms were and shocking her, Even though it should've been expected if Bilbo had been traveling for many years now--since the roads weren't completely safe. All in all, Bilbo was an ethereal being that anyone would admire and lust after.

Glóin was too much in love with Dalí to notice anyone else. Dimia couldn't stop the fond smile from forming, thinking about her nephew and his wife.

"You barely know the lad," Glóin pointed out, looking a little confused at her change in demeanor.

"I know," she relented, "but I've seen enough to know that he's someone I want in my family. Besides, the road back to Erebor is a long one. Plenty of time to get to know him."

"If he decides to go with us," he reminded her with a weak reply.

"You heard his mother--he wants to see the Lonely Mountain. Convincing him won't be a problem. The problem will making sure he doesn't find out what we're planning."

"What if you do learn more about him and find you don't like what you've found?" Glóin asked, crossing his arms, axe still in one hand, and looking at her expectantly.

"Then we no longer have to worry about getting the two of them together, no won't we?" she simply answered, stepping out of her room and pulling the door close behind her. "Now, come on. Balin's waiting for us. And I need to ask Elrond if he'd be kind enough to allow us to have tea in his garden." She was already certain the answer would be a 'yes' since it was concerning Bilbo, and none of the elves couldn't seem to say 'no' to him. She held down her suspicion, knowing the devotion was due to Bilbo being a part of Elrond's family, but couldn't quite get over how the Elves were so eager to serve him.

Shaking the suspicion away and not waiting for a response from Glóin, Dimia made her way to Balin's room, where they'd be having lunch. Seeing as Glóin would be no help, Dimia hoped Balin saw enough of what she saw in Bilbo to want to aid her in her quest to get to know Bilbo and open him up to the idea of joining a Dwarf family.

❧

Bilbo had to tamper down his excitement, lest he wanted Yavanna's creations to sense his excitement and project their own. The last thing he wanted was for the Dwarrows to get suspicious because the plants decided they wanted to blooms and grow more to show their joy and for the animals to follow him around to bask in his good mood and to reciprocate with their own.

Bilbo especially had to be careful around the Queen. While he may have paid her little attention during dinner last night, Bilbo was all too aware of her fastidious eyes on him the entire evening. The oak trees surrounding confirmed it throughout the evening, clueing him into how little the Queen was paying attention to her conversation with Elrond. Bilbo also needed to be cautious around her nephew, Balin, because he showed enough interest in him for the trees to worry. They were all too aware of his dislike of too much attention

Bilbo quickly pushed the worries aside as a familiar arch came into view. It came as no surprise to him that Elrond allowed the Queen to have her teatime in his private garden, seeing as his chamber overlooked it. Knowing his friend was close by should some mishap occurs put Bilbo's mind at ease and helped him soothed his anxiousness.

"Your Majesty," Bilbo greeted the Queen with a small bow. She was standing just beyond the archway, waiting for him. He felt his face heat up a little that she was just as excited about this as he was. Similar to him, she was dressed in Elven attire. She had a white dress with silver embroidery while he had on a white shirt with gold embroidery and black trousers. They can afford to wear minimal clothing since the temperature had increased significantly with very little wind and rain.

She smiled kindly and with too much enthusiasm for someone who'd just met him. "Greetings, Bilbo. And please call me Dimia, for I wish to be friends."

Bilbo eyebrows shot up of their own volition. He'd expected curiosity as her reasoning for wanting to have tea with him. Never once did friendship cross his mind. Yes, he'd have to keep a close eye on her.

"I'd be honored to be your friend, Dimia," Bilbo truthfully said, for he'd dreamed of having a Dwarf friend for a long time. Personally, Bilbo would blame his interest on having a part of the Green Lady in him: she had the Father of all Dwarrows as a husband, so he couldn't help but feel some connection of them, and being the Mother of the earth connected him to the land and inspired the need to know about its inhabitants.

"Come," she lightly commanded, gesturing to the small table where a Dwarf was already sitting at.

"Greetings, Mister Balin," Bilbo said with another small bow.

"Balin will do just fine, laddie," the older Dwarf told him with a soft smile. "And greetings to you,too, Bilbo." Balin was in Dwarven clothing but with no armor. And Bilbo was assuming he was older since he had much more lines marring his face and far more strands of silver hair than the Queen. But he could be wrong. Hopefully today's event would shed some light on Dwarves culture.

Bilbo nodded in acceptance to calling him Balin and to the use of his first name and took the seat across from the one he knew the Queen would be sitting in and adjacent to the one Balin was sitting in. Bilbo couldn't contain his gasp of surprise as he surveyed the tea set laid out before him. They were white ceramic teacups and plates. The plates each had a plumeria tree on it with clusters of white plumerias with a blue centers dotting its branches. The teacups had only branches with single plumerias lining the branches.

Elrond had never shown him these before. Bilbo stifled done his hurt and planned his reprimanding when Dimia's voice pulling him out of himself.

"How many lumps of sugar, dear?" she asked, looking slightly proud and pleased with herself, which confused him.

"Three please," Bilbo told her then accepted the cup when she saw finished. He thanked her then said, "This is quite a lovely teacup." He then internally cringed. Of all the things to talk to her about, he chose a cup--a fine cup, but a cup nonetheless.

The pleased smile returned with a large dose of eagerness. "Thank you. It was a present from my son for my birthday last year," she proudly told him.

Bilbo was thankful he wasn't drinking his tea, for he would've truly choked on it. And that would've been a disaster, choking in front of a new friend. "Your son?" Bilbo squeaked, thinking Elrond was spared his wrath and how undignified that sound was.

"Yes," she said, pride building in her voice. "He made them with his own two hands."

Bilbo's eyes widened a fraction. Well, that was certainly something to be very proud of. "That's remarkable," Bilbo honestly said. To make a tea set as beautiful as this one was quite astounding, seeing as Dwarrows were more interested in metals and gems than clay and glass. It was even more telling of the love her son had for her, if he could dedicate some much time to creating each item with such great details.

"It is," she replied, smiling wider than ever as Balin tried to hide his own smile behind his cup. "But then again, Thorin's always been gifted with his hands."

Something about the way she stressed that had Bilbo's mind on high alert. There was more to what she had just said, but by the looks on the two Dwarrows' faces, they seemed more interested in praising the eldest prince than divulging secrets. Then again, Bilbo wasn't in a place to judge anyone, and he also wasn't in a place to be asking for explanation. So, he reigned in his curiosity but still made an attempt. One could blame his stubbornness.

"Is that so?" he asked.

"Yes," Dimia responded, "Thorin's quite taken with making any manner of things, whether it be with metals, gems, or even wood. When he's not in court, he's in his room working on something." Bilbo didn't know if she meant for her distaste to invade her voice, but invade it did. Bilbo could understand. His mother was often displeased when he'd get so wrapped up in his powers and ignore his surroundings.

Balin must have heard her tone since he rested a hand on hers. "He's also very dedicated to whatever he puts his mind to," she fervidly assured him, bewildering him. He hadn't said anything that would suggest such a thing, given that he knew nothing of the Dwarf.

"I believe you," Bilbo told her, trying to return save their new friendship and his opportunity to travel to the Lonely Mountain. "...Where are the other Dwarrows?," Bilbo said, hoping to change the subject. Out of the corner of his eyes, Bilbo saw Balin relax, but the Queen wasn't too happy by the change in subject.

"They are probably wandering around," she answered, smile slipping back onto her face and drowning Bilbo in his relief. "Or they're with the other guards. Actually, Glóin's probably with the other guards. Nori's probably sneaking around somewhere." She laughed at the end.

"I take it none of them are too fond of tea?" Bilbo said, taking a sip of his tea and giving a pleased hum that made the Queen beam with pride.

"Not particularly," Balin answered, "which is surprising since Nori's brother, Dori, owns a tea shop." Balin's voice took on a very fond tone at the mention of this brother and a reminiscent look overtook his face at the mentioned of the tea shop.

Dimia caught his eyes, and she winked at him. Balin quickly composed himself and coughed before focusing back on his tea, a faint blush on his cheeks. That was interesting. So, Balin had a crush. Bilbo suddenly found himself wanting to know what kind of Dwarf had caught Balin's attention. The wise looking Dwarf didn't seem like the type to concern himself with love. Maybe that was why the Dwarf hadn't done anything as of yet. Bilbo was then saddened, knowing he may not get the chance of he couldn't convince the Dwarf to invite him to the mountain. By himself, they closest he could get was Dale. But he was more interested in seeing the inside of the mountain.

"What about you? Any siblings?" Dimia asked, saving her nephew for his embarrassment. Bilbo did have to thank him, though, since the awkward atmosphere that had lingered over them dissipated.

Bilbo shook his head then picked up one of the oatmeal cookie. "Unlike most Hobbits, my parents didn't want a big family," he informed them then laugh. "Part of me thinks it's because I was quite the handful, and they didn't want to take the chance of ending up with another." Bilbo felt quite proud of himself, nibbling on his cookies, as the two Dwarrows laughed.

"I know how she feels," Dimia laughed. "After having Thorin, I wasn't too sure I wanted another. And I'm still waiting for Frerin to grow up," she finished in exaggeration.

"Thank Mahal, Dís was well behaved," Balin chuckled.

"'Was' being the operative word," Dimia groused, taking a sip of her tea.

"Princess Dís is still very well behaved," Balin refuted as Bilbo decided to help himself to another cookie, enjoying the entertainment.

"We sent her and her brother to the Blue Mountains to check on how thing were going, and she came back married," Dimia firmly reminded him.

Balin was saved from responding when Bilbo started choking on his cookie. Balin gave him a few thumps on his back. "Thank you," Bilbo wheezed before gulping down the rest of his tea. Dimia refilled his cup when he set it down. He nodded his thanks. "So in short, all your kids are quite the handful?" Bilbo teased, belatedly realizing what he did. Bilbo felt his panic rise up. Oh, dear, he was acting too friendly with her.

"Quite," she sighed before smiling at him, cutting through his panic. He shyly smiled back, relieved she was okay with his teasing. "And my grandsons, even more so."

Bilbo perked up. He'd heard about  were young princes, but he didn't know anything about them. Bilbo once again reminded himself that he didn't know that much about Dwarrows, and this afternoon the was supposed to rectify that, but he'd say he was quite all right with her talking about her family. After all, Hobbits were fond of hearing about family.

"Grandsons?"

"Fíli and Kíli," she fondly said. "Two devilish rascals, who we love very dearly." Bilbo didn't doubt that. Children were greatly valued by Hobbits, and he could imagine the love Dwarrows held for their little ones, seeing as they weren't as blessed as Hobbits and Men when it came to having children. "Fíli's the eldest. He's fourteen, and Kíli's just ten, but anyone would think they were one Dwarf and not two. Always together." Her smile turned overly fond and longing. Bilbo's heart lurched. Bilbo, too, missed seeing the fauntlings of the Shire.

"They sound wonderful," Bilbo sympathetically told her. "I would've loved to meet them one day."

Dimia quickly snapped out of her daydream and fixed him with a surprised yet happy look. "I'd loved for you to meet them as well. Very much." Bilbo was getting the sense she wasn't just speaking about the boys now, which was fine with him--he would love to meet the rest of her family as well. "Say, I have an idea," she suddenly said. "The Dwarrows and I are returning to Erebor soon, what do you say to joining us? I know you've never been inside of a Mountain before, and I'd been an honor to show you Erebor. What do say? Will you come to Erebor with us?"

Bilbo was too elated to correct her about being in a mountain. He vigorously nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Getting the Dwarrows to take him inside Erebor was easier than he'd hoped.

"It's settled then," Dimia happily announced. "In a weeks time, we'll depart for Erebor."

Bilbo grinned on the outside while he debated on the inside about how he was going to convince his parents to let him go to Erebor. He'd probably enlist Gandalf's since the Wizard had a knack for getting people to do things. Hopefully, they wouldn't put up much of a fight. And if they did, Bilbo was willing to go against them. He was a grown Hobbit, and it would bring him great joy to see the inside of Erebor. And surely, his joy was worth more than keeping him within arms reach?

With his mind made up, Bilbo gave the two pleased Dwarrows on final smile before focusing on his second cup of tea. He was going to need the strength to deal with his parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.


	8. Revelations and Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo convinces his parents to let him go with the Dwarrows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than necessary to write, considering it was just sitting there on my computer. Lol
> 
> Enjoy.

Dread was slowly filling Bilbo's stomach for the bottom up like water filling up a small well, except he wasn't as big, and the water was being forced into him. Bilbo had no idea where all his confidence went. One minute it flooding his system then the next it was gone as if it was a small breeze which gently caressed his skin and left without a trace if it being there. And Bilbo desperately wished the breeze would return because he was going to need all the comfort and confidence he could find to face his parents.

It was ironic that he was this being of great power, and he could be brought down by two gentle Hobbits, who were against mindless violence. Well, it should be expected. No matter how grown a person was, their parents would always have some power over them. Bilbo wondered if any of the Valar thought of that when they made their Little Helpers. Then again, the Valar could be seen as parents themselves--part of them was in their Blessed Ones.

Bilbo shook off his musing. Now was not a time to examine the minds and wills of the Valar. What he needed to focus on was the minds and wills of his parents. Those two were what mattered right now.

With some trepidation, Bilbo lightly pushed his parents' door opens and poked his head into the room. There was no one there.

'Odd,' Bilbo thought as he walked into the room, shutting the door behind him. He surveyed the room, taking in how much different it was from his. The room was made of light-gray marble with no carving or paint on them--it was simplistic yet inviting with the brown wooden wardrobe, the vanity, the nightstands, the large bed, and the numerous bookshelves. The room was crowded where his was bare, which should come as much of a surprise because all he'd collected over the years had been taken to Bag End.

"Are you going to stand there or come outside?" his mother's questioned, cutting through his thoughts and raising his anxiousness above his surprise.

Bilbo responded by hesitantly walking out the the balcony. He should've checked there earlier. When he got there, his parents were sitting on two large chairs, which were facing the whole of Rivendell. His room faced towards Rhudaur and the forest that existed there. There was a small table between them with a simple tea set one it. His mind automatically jumped to the Queen's tea set. Her son must be an craftsman to make such a beautiful set. Bilbo was quite looking forward to meeting him. If he could convince his parents to let him go, that was.

"How was tea, dear?" his mother asked in that airy voice that made it seem that she was merely being polite for sake of manners when in actuality, she was attentively paying attention.

"Tea was lovely, Mum," Bilbo calmly replied with his own air of false politeness. He then proceeded to stand in front of them because it was very impolite to talk to someone back--a thing many Hobbits could learn to follow. Both of his parents were reading a book and dressed in their normal Hobbit clothing. He found it amusing how much he liked wearing his Elven attire--no matter how ostentatious they were--since Elrond's tailors had made his new set of clothing softer and less constricting, save for the robe he wore on the first night here. Those were still a tad too stiff. He wondered why he'd never seemed to like very constricting clothing? Every since he was a child, he preferred flowing clothing, and those who allowed him more freedom to move, to strech. Maybe--

"That's good to hear, Bilbo," his mother said, once again pulling him from his head and doing it without taking her eyes off her book, which he just noticed was written in Sindarin. "Did you learn what you wanted to know about Dwarrows?" she asked.

Even with her not looking at him, Bilbo still blushed and ducked his head. "Not exactly," he shyly answered.

"No?" she said in mock surprise. And he could tell she wasn't by the way she bit the corner of her lip to stop from smiling. He never knew how other Hobbits never picked up on the little quick. Then again, they were probably to scared of her to notice much.

"We talked about her family and some of her friends," Bilbo told her, suspicion crawling to the forefront of his mind.

"That's not surprising," she said, and actually sounding unsurprised, "since Hobbits and Dwarrows hold family in high regard." Either she was mocking him or just reminding him of the dinner that first night when she and the Queen passionately defended their race, though Bilbo was still unsure they were merely talking about their specific race.

With narrowed forest-green eyes, Bilbo forcefully asked, "What do you know?" The smile she gave her book slightly distressed and unnerved him. "Mum," he warned, and her smile got bigger. Bilbo knew he was fighting a losing battle.

"I know a lot of things, Bilbo," she smugly said, flipping the page over. Who was she fooling? Bilbo knew she hadn't read a single word since he got here.

"No," he irritatedly said, "you've been spending much time with Gandalf." His comment had his father chortling. "Da," he pleaded.

Shaking his head, he father responded with, "This is between your mother and you." Bilbo pursed his lips and looked away from his amused father. Bilbo remembered a time when his father would easily given into his request. Where had the years gone?

Finally looking up at him, his mother smirked. It was scary how well she could read him. "Tell me about tea with the Queen, love," she innocently requested.

Bilbo shot here a small scowl before re-accounting his afternoon with the Queen. He kept his suspicion to himself when her eyes lit up at the mention of the Queen's eldest son, attributing her interest in him to his ability to work with his hands. Hobbits held those who could work with their hands in high regard. After all, Hobbits had always used their hands to tend to the land the Green Lady had blessed them with.

"Such a shame you didn't get to learn that much about Dwarrows," his mother sympathetically said when he finished talking. "And who knows when you'll get another chance to asked them, seeing as they're very busy and planning on leaving soon."

"And yet again, I ask 'what do you know?'" Bilbo emphatically stressed out.

"Nothing," she loudly protested. "Unless there is something I should know?" She raised an expectant eyebrow. And just like that, his fears quickly swallowed up his irritation. She knew! She knew all along, and she didn't say anything! Wait, how did she find out? And why didn't she say anything? Why was she so calm about this?

"You know," said the bewildered Hobbit.

"Know what, love?" His father inquired. "Know that you planned on convincing the Dwarrows to take you to their mountain?"

Bilbo gapped at his father while his mother chuckled and closed her book. "Sometimes, it astounds me how you can keep some things a secret, and other things are plainly written on your face," she remarked with a soft smile on her face. "So, when exactly are you leaving?"

"How are you so sure they asked me to come along?" Bilbo stubbornly asked.

"Because you wouldn't be standing here, nervously pulling at your shirt, if they didn't say you could go with them," she plainly said, and lo and behold, Bilbo was indeed pulling at the bottom of his shirt. He hadn't even realized he was doing, and for how long? He almost groaned, realizing he must have started the second he got in front of them. "Now, when are you leaving?" she asked again.

"In a week," he answered, confused and in a bit of a dazed.

"Then, we'll help go get ready by then," she resolutely stated, and silence fell over their heads.

"That's it?" Bilbo disbelievingly asked after some time. His mother looked back in confusion. "You're not going to tell 'no,' or try to convince me otherwise with some excuse, like, I don't know, the road are dangerous, or a mountain is no place for a hobbit? Something." Bilbo didn't know where the anger came from, but it was there and searing his inside. He'd planned out this entire speech about him being a grown Hobbit, and he could makes his choices. But his speech was useless now if they weren't going or put up a fuss. Bilbo tried to ignore the hurt he felt as well, which was easier given the anger in his small body.

"That's it," his mother agreed. "And yes, the roads hold some danger, but you're going to be traveling with the Queen of Erebor and her guards, and I'm sure Gandalf would invite himself. Plus, Erestor and Glorfindel will be tagging along, seeing as they're unofficially your bodyguards. So your father and I have nothing to worry about."  Curse Gandalf. Curse Elrond. And curse those two lovestruck fools. Bilbo was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Last winter had proved that and then some.

"And as for the mountain," his father added, finally taking his eye off his book, "you have been in a mountain before, and you were fine with it, except for the dampness and hard ground, of course, but you were still fine with it. And I'm pretty sure Erebor wouldn't be damp, and Gandalf and the rest would see to it that you don't have to sleep on hard floors." He chuckled at the end, but Bilbo couldn't find any humor.

"Why...why aren't you two worried or something?" he weakly asked.

His mother smiled comfortingly at him, like she'd do when he was younger and first came into his powers. "We worry all the time, my little oak," she softly said, garnering a weak smile for him. He always loved when she called him that. "It what we as parents do--we worry."

"Even when it's time to let our children go," his father said with a sad smile.

"What do you mean? Let them go?" Bilbo frowned. His parents didn't answers but continued to smile in a comforting and sad way, almost as if they were saying goodbye, but that was ridiculous. He was leaving for another week. It was almost if they were expecting to not see him again or for a long time. Why would they think that? Why-oh. That was why. "You know," he softly said.

"We know," his mother confirm, looking that much sadder. "We've known for a while." Bilbo started back in shock.

"A very long while actually," his father supplied.

"But how?" Bilbo asked with some difficulty.

"Oh, Bilbo," his mother said it that chagrined way she would whenever he assumed she didn't know something when she clearly did. "You secret place is tuck away at the edge of the woods. If that isn't a big enough clue then I don't know what is." He looked sheepishly at them then something occurred to him.

"I found that place before I got my powers," he reminded them.

"We know," his father blankly. "Why do you think we let you wander off on your own so much?" Bilbo stood there, stunned, so his father continued, "We're pretty surprised you've waited so long."

"So, you're letting you go?" Bilbo asked in a hollowed voice.

"We're letting you be happy, Bilbo," his mother fervently said, "even if that is outside of the Shire." She then had a contemptuous look on her face. "And frankly, I'm glad it is outside of the Shire. Everyone there is too judgemental and scared, and you of all beings shouldn't have to live in that type of environment."

Bilbo didn't know about that, but he finally smiled, albeit a small one. "I'm going to see the Dwarrows," he excitedly said.

"You are," his mother said, getting up and looking fiercely into his eyes. "You are going to see a race who pride themselves on their strength, and you shouldn't be afraid to show yours."

"Mum," Bilbo whined, feeling his excitement shattered.

She virtuously shook her head. "You're getting a chance to be free of the Shire, and you should let all parts of you be free." She raised a hand to cut off his reply. "Your powers are not meant to concealed within yourself. That's why they have been given to you--to be use, not to be hidden away. You're going to make yourself miserable."

"Dalco kept his powers hidden," Bilbo stubbornly said, angry art his mother for suggesting such a thing and for implying he wasn't using or happy with his powers.

"Dalco was a weak and spineless Hobbit who relied on other to tell him what to do," she stubbornly retorted. "Not to mention how selfish he was. Using his powers to help those he deemed his friends." Her eyes glowed with utter determination. "You are different. You are not weak and far from selfish. You want to help, and you can't do that if you're constantly trying to conceal who your are."

"I don't want to cause a panic," Bilbo weakly countered, knowing she was right. There had been countless times where he wanted to help  but did nothing because he was afraid to show what he was.

"People are always going to worry, Bilbo," she formally informed him. "There is nothing we can do about that. And uou keep focusing on the fact that you're a bad omen when you're actually a sign of hope. You've always been a sign of hope. A sign that the Valar are watching and are helping."

Bilbo wanted to crawl into himself and hide among his embarrassment. He did in fact consider himself nothing but a bad omen. He'd always focused on what evil he'd to fight that he never stopped to think of what he was. He was sign that the Valar were there. He was hope for many people. He was ashamed he lost sight of that.

"Besides," his mother continued, "Gandalf and I think the Fell Winter was the event you were meant to help with. And if that wasn't it, then you're meant to help somewhere else. And for you to do that, you'll have to show your powers."

'And then there would be no reason to hide,' he added in his head. 'Everyone would then know what he is.'

"I'll think about it," Bilbo told her. To which, she tiredly sighed.

"I know you don't want to be revered," she sympathetically, "but there is no escaping that. Who know, maybe the Valar chose you so you could change thing. Show everyone the Helpers are simple that--helpers, and their thanks and reverence should be to the Valar and not you."

Bilbo's eyebrow shot up. He hadn't thought of it that way. He had gotten the Elves to show more respect and gratitude to the Valar, why couldn't he do the same with the other races?

"Well, you don't have to decide right away," she offhandedly said, even though Bilbo knew she could see what he was leaning towards. "And we should tell Gandalf and Elrond the good news." Which they did after Bilbo cleaned up. Ture to his Monterey words, Gandalf invited himself, and Glorfindel and Erestor shredded to tag along as 'company.'

Between deciding what to do with his powers and preparing for the trip, the week flew by. And everyone was prepared to depart. The Dwarrows were waiting by the entrance to Rivendell while Bilbo said his goodbyes.

"You're father and I have decided to stay in Rivendell for month before heading back to the Shire," his mother informed him. Bilbo nodded his head. His parents needed some time to recoup after everything that had happened. "And we expect letters and visit as soon as you return to Rivendell."

Bilbo didn't understand why she was so amused by that, but he agreed nonetheless.

"Have you decided what your are going to do?" his father asked.

Bilbo nodded. "I'm going to wait until I return to Rivendell then give my permission for the Elves to tell whosoever comes to Rivendell and let them spread the word."

"You'll get many visitors," his father pointed out.

"And I have Elrond and Lindir to help organize how I am presented to Middle Earth."

That seemed to please both his parents and make them proud. Bilbo felt proud of himself, too, and a little freer. 

"Have a safe trip," his father said after a beat of silence, pulling Bilbo down for a tight hug and to kiss the top of his head. Bilbo held just as tightly. They separated after some time, and Bilbo faced his mother.

"Runner what I said about the Dwarrows. Even if you can't use your powers, don't be afraid to show them you are not a defenseless creature," she firmly stated. "And do have fond." She softened her voice at the end and pulled into Bilbo.

"I will," Bilbo muttered into her shoulder. She pulled back and kissed both of his cheeks.

"No run along," she shooed, gaining a laugh from the two male Hobbit.

Bilbo agilely got on his horse, a gray steed named Snowdrop, and waved at his parent before trotting off to join the others.

"Ready for another adventure?" Gandalf asked, a slight twinkle in his eyes.

"Yes," Bilbo answered as they left Rivendell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. ;)


	9. Of Dwarrows and Fur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trek through the Misty Mountains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually finished yesterday, but I was to lazy to upload it. Sorry.
> 
> Enjoy :)

It was a jarring experiment traveling with Dwarrows. So much so that Bilbo paid little attention to his surroundings and almost steered Snowdrop into Gandalf's steed twice now. He'd profusely apologized to the three wronged parties and got forgiveness from the steeds--who merely wanted to please him--and an amused smile from the Wizard. Bilbo had long come to accept Gandalf's face had three phases: thoughtfulness, amusement, and insouciance. Ignoring the second of the three, as he'd come to master, Bilbo refocused on what surprised him: the loudness of Dwarrows.

"Nori, I need you to ride ahead and find us a place to rest!" Glóin bellowed from his perched at the front of their procession. The Queen and Balin, who were just behind Glóin with their heads as close together as they could get them, didn't look up or flinch as he shouted the command. Glóin's roar rattled his bones from his perch from near the back of the procession, yet none of the other Dwarrows so much as acted as if he said anything, lost in their conversation and merriment.

"Do it yerself!" Nori roared back from behind Bilbo, and Bilbo was unsure who jumped higher: Snowdrop or him?

"Nori!" Glóin shouted, looking over his shoulder and scowling at the spymaster as Gandalf rocked with silent laughter. Bilbo shot the Wizard  a scowl of his own while soothing his pony and his drumming heart.

Nori grumbled under his breath and petulant past between Gandalf and Bilbo to the front, where he glowered at Glóin before riding off.

"Do you have any idea what they are discussing?" Bilbo asked, though his eyes were on Glorfindel, who had a yearning look on his face as he gazed upon Erestor, who was surveying their surroundings--always on guard.

"You overestimate my importance, Bilbo," Gandalf replied, and Bilbo could hear the smile in his voice as well as the evasion.

Glorfindel quickly looked away when Erestor turned to survey the opposite side, pretending to be utterly bored with the world. The corner of Erestor's dark eyes softened. Bilbo really needed to hit something. So, he reached over and smacked Gandalf's arm with the back of his hand.

"Bilbo!" Gandalf shirked, affronted, garnering the attention of the Elves and the two Dwarrows in front of the Elves. They appeared to be two Dwarrows who just reached adulthood. They were both heavily armed with two swords each and a hammer for the bulkier Dwarf with blonde hair and an axe for the slimmer Dwarf with light-brown hair.

Bilbo smiled innocently at the four of them, and the extremely hairy Dwarrows with matching hazel eyes gave him a suspicious and contemptuous once over before focusing on the road ahead. Both Glorfindel and Erestor had raised eyebrows, and Bilbo waved them off and hissed to Gandalf when their backs were turned, "Don't lie to me, Gandalf."

"If you're so curious," Gandalf lowly hissed back, "why don't you have the tree tell you what they're talking about?"

"Because I'm a Baggins, and we Bagginses do not eavesdrop on people," Bilbo whispered back with a hard glare. Plus, Bilbo was still trying to travel without relying too much on his powers. He made sure the trees passed on the message that he wasn't at liberty to chat with them, which would normally amounted to him listening to what they had to say. Moreover, he would have plenty of time to use his powers in Greenwood and once he returned to Rivendell. Actually, he would never have to worry about using his powers after this trip. "Besides, you make it your business to know everyone's business."

The gray Wizard looked thoughtful for a second before nodding. Forest-green eyes rolled at the Gandalf. Sometimes, Bilbo wondered why he was even friends with Gandalf.

"Be as that may," Gandalf said, "there are some things I am not at liberty to disclose, even to you." While Bilbo could see Gandalf was bound by secrecy, Gandalf also looked conflicted like he wanted to tell Bilbo but couldn't. So Bilbo ended his suffering but focusing back on the road and spotting the star-shaped Dwarf approaching them.

Soon they were settling down at a small clearing a little from the road for Luncheon. And if Bilbo thought they were loud before, he was sadly mistaken. The Dwarrows were shouting to one another from all directions, some of them with the mouths full of meat--rabbit.

Nori was a prime example. Nori was chatting with a Dwarf around Glóin's age: black hair and beard with numerous braids and sharp face that Bilbo strongly believed wouldn't smooth out even if he smiled. He was heavily armed with twin axe and throwing knives on his belt. And like the other Dwarrows, he was dressed in dark leathered armor. The Dwarf said something that had Nori throwing back his head, roaring with laughter. But Bilbo was too focused on the minced meat in his mouth to care why he was laughing. Another laugh caught Bilbo's attention. It came from the final member of their party. This Dwarf had bushy red hair that was in serious need of a combing. Unlike the rest, this Dwarf only carried two swords. He had a round face was looked more prone to laughing then the rest. Bilbo sat there appalled as this Dwarf shoveled more meat into his mouth with his bare hand while talking to the two young Dwarrows.

"They grow on you," Gandalf said, drawing his eyes away from the three Dwarrows. Bilbo looked incredulously at Gandalf, who was munching on a lembas. Somehow, Bilbo highly doubt that, but who knew. He might get used to it. Actually, he was going to have to get used to it. He was, after all, going to be spending time with more Dwarrows in their mountain.

Bilbo tore his eyes away from the Wizard and caught the eye of Dimia. She smiled at him from across the clearing, and even from a distance, Bilbo could see embarrassment coloring her face...and a little bit of apprehension? Bilbo smiled reassuringly back. Bad manners weren't going to keep him away from seeing the mountain. Besides, he shouldn't pass judgment on an entire race based on the habits of a few. Dimia's smile grew wider before she turned her attention back to Balin.

'Watch out for that one. She's a sharp one,' his mother had told him, and Bilbo was starting to really see how sharp she was. Bilbo looked away then rolled his eyes in frustration. Glorfindel was following Erestor, asking if he could help with feeding the horses. Erestor politely decline with a small smile before waltzing off, leaving behind a crestfallen Glorfindel.

"I swear one of these days, I will hit two of them upside the back of the head," Bilbo groused. "For a race that pride themselves on having incredible eyesight, they sure are blind." Gandalf gruffly laughed, and Bilbo beckoned Glorfindel over to the log the two of them were sitting on. Glorfindel plastered a smile on his face and sat next to them not saying a words. Bilbo sighed before focusing on his lembas and stewed rabbit.

Glorfindel's eyes never left Erestor.

When Luncheon was over, Glorfindel rushed over to help Erestor. And Bilbo had enough. He surreptitiously looked around to make sure no one was looking before implementing his plan. A small root grew out of the ground in the form of an arch, big enough to trip a grown Elf. And that it did. The took hooked Glorfindel's right foot, and he fell, taking down Erestor with him. Erestor landed on his back with a big 'oof' while Glorfindel hissed when his hands hit the ground on either sides of Erestor's head. Neither moved but lay there, looking into each other's eyes. Bodies perfectly aligned. Bilbo was extremely pleased with himself.

Someone cleared their throat, and Glorfindel was scampering off of Erestor, muttering apologies as he went. And it took all of Bilbo's self-control to not make the root grow to full length and smack the Dwarf who cleared his throat.

"I'm so sorry," Glorfindel apologized again as he help Erestor up. "I should've been watching where I was going."

"It's fine," Erestor said with a frown on his face. He quickly left go of Glorfindel's left hand to focus on the right one. "You're hurt!" Erestor exclaimed when he was faced with Glorfindel's palm. There was a small blood stain, barely an inch.

"It's merely a scratch," Glorfindel said, trying to pull his hand away, no doubt to not look weak in front of Erestor. Yet another person Bilbo wanted to hit.  

Erestor held on tight to the hand and dragged a protesting Glorfindel over to another log and forcefully pushed him down on it. Erestor then went over to his packs and drew out a small jar and some bandage. With those in hand, he went to another pack to get a waterskin. He then returned and plopped down next to the 'injured' elf and proceeded to wash the 'wound' with the utmost care and gentleness. Glorfindel didn't protest. He did protest, however, when Erestor used his tunic to dry the hand but shut his mouth when the dark haired Elf glared at him. Erestor then started applying a greenish slave to the 'wound,' lightly blowing on it to dry faster. Glorfindel shivered, and Bilbo could tell why. Even the uncharacteristically quiet Dwarrows could tell why. When Erestor finished washing and drying his hand, he carefully wrapped the bandage around the hand. Deeming the 'wound' taken care of, Erestor finally looked up and was met with many amused looks, but he held his head high, unashamed of what he'd done, yet to let go of the hand he was holding. Glorfindel had yet to take his eyes off their joint hands.

"That news quite reckless of you," Gandalf remarked, very close to his ear.

Bilbo stiffened with panic and fear before composing himself. "I don't know what you're talking about," he calmly whispered back.

"And very sweet of you," Gandalf went on as if Bilbo said nothing. Wizards.

"It was purely selfish, I assure you." There was no point in denying it any longer. Gandalf hummed in response. Bilbo rolled his eyes and looked away from the two only to catch the suspicious look the Queen was shooting Gandalf and him.

Yes, he would surely need to keep an eye on her.

~ ❧ ~

The Misty Mountains were just as Bilbo remembered it--rocky and wet. The coarse ground beneath his feet was soaked, and there were water droplets dripping from numerous trees. The blonde haired Dwarf groaned when yet another droplet fell onto his armor. Bilbo really should learn their names since they were escorting him to Erebor. It was only right.

Bilbo only sighed when a droplet hit his arm. They should all be thankful they got here after the heavy downpour. Bilbo was all too aware how treatourous it was scaling the Misty Mountains during heavy rain, how easy it was to slip and fall, how easy it was to get stuck.

Another consolidation was that Erestor and Glorfindel had graduated from longings looks to shy smiles. They had also managed to hold eyes contact for longer than a few seconds at a time, which was a great improvement given how long it took them to notice they other cared. Bilbo almost wept with joy when Erestor asked Glorfindel for help with the horses. And he silently cheered with Gandalf when they would brush hands when passing something to the other. If they hadn't started courting by the time they were ready to leave Greenwood, Bilbo would haul them by their hairs and lock them in a room until they sort themselves out. All of Arda would thank him for it.

Bilbo stored those thoughts away. Those two lovesick fools had time. He drew in that fresh scent of clean air, a welcomed scent after being surrounded by the stench of sweaty Dwarrows. He better enjoy it because as soon as the ground showed any sign of dry out, they would be increasing their pace to avoid having the spend the night in the mountains.

Bilbo snorted. Dwarrows not wanting to spend the night in a mountain. How utterly ridiculous. But Bilbo assumed the Dwarrows didn't want their queen sleeping in a mountain infested with some lingering Goblins. Hopefully, they Elves would soon rid the mountains of what remained once and for all. Arda will thank them for that.

The brown haired Dwarf turning his head east caught Bilbo's attention. Countless times the Dwarrows had looked in that direction with a forlorn expression. Whenever he asked Gandalf for the reason why, he was met with raised shoulders.

Whatever it was only seemed to darken their moods. Even the Queen looked distressed whenever Bilbo saw her, for she was always discussing something with Balin.

Bilbo prayed to Yavanna that it wasn't anything disastrous.

~ ❧ ~

"There is a friend of mine," Gandalf said then paused as they were all ready to leave again. They were less than half a day's ride from the edge of Greenwood, and the sun was hanging low in the sky, to the point where everything was more gold than not. The Dwarrows really wanted to leave the mountain behind.

"And?" Sarín impatiently asked. He was the dark haired Dwarf Nori had been talking to. Coincidentally, Nori had also been the one to supply Bilbo with the names of the other Dwarrows. Though, Bilbo could've done without the leering, and he would've said so had Nori not look stricken before running off and disappearing among the tree. Bilbo was still unsure who scared him off. And Gandalf was no help; he just smiled when asked. Bilbo should get his own staff. He certainly had the means to make one.

"Who would be happy to provide shelter for us," Gandalf pensively continued, looking up at the sky and making his remark sound more like a question than a fact. Several of the Dwarrows growl in frustration while those familiar with Gandalf's ways ignored him and let him come to some decision. "I'll go asked," Gandalf abruptly stated walking over to his horse and mounting it. "I'll meet you there," he shouted over his shoulder before vanishing behind a mass of trees.

"Meet him where?!" Farar, the blonde Dwarf, shouted, irritated.

"At his friend's house," Glorfindel deadpanned while Erestor smirked at the ground. His 'bodyguards' weren't too happy about the scornful looks the Dwarrows had been shooting him since they left Rivendell. Bilbo could forgive the suspiciousness since it must have come as a surprise to them that their queen was taking a Hobbit to Erebor. It also didn't help that two of Elrond's most trusted advisors were coming along as protection for the Hobbit. Bilbo was willing to bet their hurt pride took precedence over their distrust of him.

Dimia and he sighed together then looked at each other in surprise before smiling.

"Bilbo," she asked, still smiling, "do you know who this friend is?"

"His name is Beorn," Bilbo answered, "and he owns much of the land between the Misty Mountain and Greenwood."

It was then a mighty roar shook the land around them. The Dwarrows frantically drew their weapons and formed a circle around Dimia, looking wildly around for the source of such a sound. If the horses hadn't been tied down, they surely would've bolted already. And while they all heard a roar, Bilbo heard something else.

"That would be Beorn," Bilbo wearily said. Not that anyone was listening to him. Seconds later a brown blur shot out from the tree and landed between the Dwarrows and Bilbo, causing everyone in the clearing to bounce off the ground. The massive bear slowly stood on two legs, menacingly growling as he went. The Dwarrows stood there, frozen in fear. Bilbo was grateful for that. He would hate to see Beorn slaughter his traveling companions had they attacked.

Bilbo rolled his eyes and scolded the bear. "Must you do that."

Beorn didn't respond but kept his black eyes on the Dwarrows. Then slowly, the fur started to melt away, or Bilbo should say they slowly receded back into Beorn's skin. Beorn's snout contracted back with a loud cracking sound that had Bilbo winching--though, he knew it was painless--and the Dwarrows jumping out of their skins. One of them even squeaked. Beorn claws and fangs retracted, and his shoulders squared until all that was left was a very naked man with a long, thick black beard.

Bilbo tiredly sighed, all too used to Beorn's naked form. The man's head snapped to the side and a joyous smile overtook his face.

"Bunny!" Beorn gleefully shouted, striding over to Bilbo and picking him up before Bilbo could protest. Beorn crushed Bilbo to his chest, and Bilbo was lost in a sea of honey and sandalwood smelling hair.

"C-can't breath," Bilbo wheezed, feeling his ribs rubbed together in the wrong way. Instantaneously, they pressure was gone, and Bilbo drew in a sharp before glaring at the sheepish skinchanger. Beorn then gave him a playful smile before maneuvering Bilbo onto his shoulder, eliciting an unmanly squeak from Bilbo. "Put me down!" Bilbo demanded then squeaked again, grabbing onto Beorn hair, as Beorn turned around and started walking the way he came from.

A hesitant 'Bilbo' stopped Beorn. Bilbo twisted his body to see Dimia looking warily at him then at the back of Beorn. The circle had broken and was turned into a line of shell shocked Dwarrows with Dimia in the middle. Glorfindel and Erestor were busy gathering their packs and the horses.

"Um..." Bilbo shyly said, now feeling ridiculous, sitting on top of a naked man's shoulder. "This is Beorn."

Gandalf then came riding out of the forest with an unconcerned look on his face.

Blasted Wizard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't you just love Beorn? Tehe
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


	10. Making Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dwarrows and Beorn officially become acquainted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter this time :)
> 
> Enjoy.

"I may end up killing him one day," Bilbo told Beorn while glaring at the smiling Wizard.

"That I do not doubt, Bunny," Beorn sincerely said, causing a few choked sounds, but Bilbo couldn't be mad at Beorn for the moniker when he continued walking right past Gandalf, not even sparing him a glance. The trotting Bilbo heard soon after informed him Gandalf was following them. "I'm surprised to see you traveling with Dwarrows, Bunny." The response was so close to a growl.

Three sets of trotting added to the sounds around Bilbo, followed the hurried shuffled of heavy footsteps. Seemed the Dwarrows had finally gathered their wits.

"They're taking me to see the mountain," Bilbo happily informed him to cover up that anything was wrong then softly into Beorn's ear, "They know not what I am." The skinchanger stiffened a little but didn't stop walking.

"As do most of Arda," Beorn plainly stated, void of any emotions, but Bilbo couldn't help but hear it as an accusations.

"Hopefully not for much longer." The giant of a man did stop this time and looked up into Bilbo face, astonishment shining in his eyes.

"Truly?" he disbelievingly asked. Bilbo nodded. "Then we have much to celebrate," he joyously announced before continuing.

Using the same ear again, Bilbo whispered quite mischievously, "Gandalf doesn't know yet."

"What doesn't Gandalf know?" a voice asked, startling Bilbo, who would have fell off Beorn had he not have a firm grasp on Beorn's hair and Beorn not have a hold on his legs. Bilbo twisted around to glare down at the Wizard

Beorn lowly growled. And Bilbo enjoyed watching Gandalf squirm on his sattle. He did, however, accept the apologetic look. It was never wise to hold onto a grudge, no matter how small it may be.

"Beorn, put me down," Bilbo politely requested. "Your house is still some distance away."

"Bunny is far too important to be walking on such hard grounds," Beorn swiftly retorted.

"Bunny is a Hobbit, who was born from the ground and who very much likes being on the ground," Bilbo stressed, ignoring the snickering behind him. Traitors. While Bilbo may be used to sitting on Beorn's shoulder, he wasn't one for heights unless he was in a tree and could bend and wrap the branches around him to securely hold himself in place.

"And I'll put you down...soon."

For his cheek, Bilbo tugged at Beorn's hair. Beorn playfully growled in retaliation, causing Bilbo to giggle. Oh, how he'd miss his friend.

"Watch it, Bear," Bilbo snarked. "I can still take you down from here." Beorn threw his head back and gave a boisterous laugh that shook Bilbo and the surroundings. Someone had even dropped their weapon. The plants and animals kept quiet, and Bilbo wasn't sure if it was because of his request or they were all too familiar with how loud Beorn could get. Maybe  both?

"It had been too long," Beorn laughingly said, finally settling down.

"It has," Bilbo ruefully agreed. Too long. "Now tell me what you've been up since we last met." Beorn wasted no time in regaling Bilbo with tales of the animals that had come into his care and the state of his garden. The latter of the two sparked further discussion on what flowers and herbs Beorn had decided to plant this year or would plant this year.

The two of them were so engorged in their conversation that neither noticed they had left there forest until they came to Beorn's front gate: two large wooden door, which stood in the center of a very high thorn hedge that encircled a very large plot of land. With little force, Beorn pushed the gates open and stepped through.

"Beorn," Bilbo complained when Beorn's free hand came up to block his entire face.

"You can't see the garden until you've had something to eat," he firmly stated, causing Bilbo to sigh in defeat. Bilbo did, however, take in the scent of hay and honey that mask everything else and Beorn shooing the animals (bees, sheeps, dogs and horses) that got close to them. In the Tongue of the Beasts, Beorn instructed them to prepare for their guests and get rooms ready, specifically Bilbo's room, which was next to Beorn's and across from Gandalf's room. Reluctantly they went to do as their master commanded but not before saying another greeting.  

"The Elves and Dwarrows had just finished eating," Bilbo told him, waving to the animals as they hurried off to do their work.

"Then tea for them and honey cakes for you," Beorn matter-of-factly said, stopping and lowering his hand. They had stopped at Beorn's opened wooden door. Beorn entered before the rest could catch up, judging by the distant footsteps. Beorn's home was just as Bilbo remembered it. Everything was made of unpainted oak wood: the floors, the ceilings, the beams holding them up, the large table and the stools. The only thing not made of wood was the fireplace, which was a large rectangular opening in the floor just beyond the table with a small rectangular hearth inside it for the logs made entirely of bricks.

The house stilled smelled of fresh hay and honey.

Beorn grabbed a pair of black trousers from a hook behind the door and pulled them on with Bilbo still on his shoulder. Bilbo had to circle his arms around Beorn's neck to stop from fall off. Beorn then sauntered over the the side of the table closest to the fire with an incensed Hobbit on his shoulder. He set Bilbo down on the ground and took his seat. Just as Bilbo was going to sit down on his seat, two callous hands grabbed him by the waist, making him squeak in surprise before he was hauled onto Beorn's lab. Bilbo rolled his eyes in exasperating as they waited for the others, who were no doubt leaving their belonging and the horses in the courtyard for the other animals to tend to. It still astound him how well trained Beorn's animals were. Speaking of which.

"Remind me later on to tell you about last winter," Bilbo whispered to the skinchanger, even though they were the only ones in the room. Cautioness had been his friends for far too long, it seemed. The man nodded his head.

As the tea and honey cakes arrived, so did they others. Gandalf and the Elves swiftly took their seats: Glorfindel and Erestor on Beorn's left and Gandalf on the second stool on Beorn's right. Glorfindel poured everyone's tea while Gandalf helped himself to a honey cake, disregarding the threatening growl Beorn sent his way.  

The Dwarrows stood in front to the door, Glóin at the helm, shielding Dimia. Not one of them was without their weapons and their fierce expressions. Dimia was the only one who had a different expression. There was a large amount of displeasure and distrust. Bilbo then noted fear , but it wasn't directed at Beorn but at him, distressing him. Dimia had no reason to fear for him.

Bilbo smiled reassuringly at her to alleviate the fear and some of her displeasure. He'd enjoyed the Queen's company and was afraid of not getting another chance to talk with her. Dimia weakly smiled back, and he beckoned them over. None of them moved.

"Well," Beorn began, and Bilbo could already feel dread building, "this is certainly not what I expected from the Queen who had made peace with the Elves of Middle Earth." He raised both his arms and spread them wide. "Empty seats when I have graciously offered shelter and tea." Beorn sneered at the end. And Bilbo wanted to hide in the skinchanger's beard. He was never going to win over the other Dwarrows at this rate.

The Dwarrows started up a ruckus, many shouting in defense of their queen in Westron and some shouting in that guttural language of theirs. All of them, however, were clutching their weapons tighter and taking up offensive stances. Bilbo didn't need to look up to know Beorn was smirking at the display.

"Silence!" Dimia hissed, and the Dwarrows abruptly snapped their mouths shut, but their faces were still red with anger and hatred. Dimia stepped around Glóin, much to the warrior's displeasure and protest, and held her head high and squared her shoulder like she was meeting some foreign dignitary, which, Bilbo supposed, she was. They were on Beorn's lands. His and forever will be. "My apologies, Master Beorn," she cordially said, "but my Dwarrows are highly protective when it comes to those we do not know."

"Don't know?" Beorn flatly said before gwaffing. Beorn looked down at Bilbo with laughter in his eyes. "Did you hear that, Bunny?" Beorn jokingly asked. "The little Queen doesn't know who I am. Yet her Dwarrows," he spat the word, "have been traveling through my lands for centuries, seeking shelter in my lands for centuries, killing on my land for centuries." He huffed, "She doesn't know who I am."

Gandalf looked seconds away from repeatedly acquainting his forehead with Beorn's table, and Bilbo would gladly join him in his endeavor. Dimia looked at a lost for words, which Bilbo suspected was uncommon for a queen by Balin's frantic search for what to say next.

"I was unaware anyone owned these lands," Dimia finally said.

Turning back to face the Queen, Beorn coolly said, "And a simple inquiry from the Elves would've alleviated that problem."

"Beorn!" Bilbo hissed, smacking the Man's bare chest. Bilbo then turned apologetic eyes onto the Queen. "I'm sorry for his behavior, but Beorn isn't too fond of Dwarrows."

"And why is that?" Haran, the bushy red headed Dwarf, sneered, earning him a sharp glare from Balin and a more thunderous one from Dimia. Haran flinched at the second glare and bowed his head in submission.

"Because your kind is greedy," Beorn sneered right back, and Bilbo should be grateful he hadn't attacked the Dwarrows as of yet. "Digging in a part of the mountain, you had no business being in and sending those filth out of their mountain onto my land." Bilbo could feel the signs of a growl reverberating within Beorn. Bilbo was sure if he wasn't on Beorn's lap, the skincharger would've launched himself at the Dwarrows by now. Bilbo rest his hand on Beorn's left knee for good measure.

Dimia's face contorted in utter shame and guilt, much like the other older Dwarrows. Farar and Tanim, the brown haired Dwarf, the two youngest of the group, showed more guilt than shame.

"And did she mention," Beorn went on coldly, "that her precious Dwarrows were once again in the mountains, far east, stirring up trouble?"

"We're clearing the mountain out!" Dimia hotly protested as Gandalf, Glorfindel, and Erestor shouted, "What?!" That would certainly explain the constant dismal glances to the east.

"That is the Elves' job!" Beorn roared. "They were task with stealthily invading the mountain and dispatching of the remaining Goblins and Orcs, not an army of loudmouth Dwarrows! And certainly not a certain Dwarf, who almost managed to collapse a portion of the mountains!" The last word roared by Beorn managed to rattle the tea sets and a couple of the Dwarrows. Or maybe that was anger because the Dwarrows looked positively livid, including Dimia.

Having been looking at the Dwarrows so closely, Bilbo saw they were angrier at Beorn for mentioning this unknown Dwarf. Bilbo could only guess this dwarf must have been part of the royal family. How a single Dwarf managed to almost take down a portion of a mountain was besides him. Well, he certainly wasn't no Dwarf, so it could be entirely possible for all he knew.

Farar took a step forward, and Gandalf was out of his seat in a flash. "ENOUGH!" he bellowed, and the room suddenly dimmed but grew warmer. Everyone, including Beorn, cowered under the Wizard except Bilbo, who had witnessed the Gray Wizard's fury. Bilbo thanked Yavanna it was never used against him, not that he was worried because he was more than certain he could take Gandalf down. There probably wasn't someone alive today that Bilbo couldn't take down.

Gandalf turned fiery eyes onto the Dwarrows. And as one they stepped back. "Sit down," he hotly commanded, and it was amusing to see such a fierce race scampering to find seats, all but the Queen, who gracefully walked to sit besides Gandalf. Gandalf turned his wrath on Beorn, who flinched. "We will not discuss this matter or anyone any further," Gandalf pointedly glared. Bilbo looked up to see Beorn frown in confusion. He glanced back at Gandalf to see him staring more intently at the Man. Bilbo gazed up again  to see confusion melt away into understanding.

Bilbo shot a glare at the Wizard. The two of them was hiding something from him, something concerning the Dwarrows. Gandalf pointedly ignored Bilbo, seated himself back on his stool, and grabbed another honey cake. Beorn didn't growl this time. Bilbo was going to have serious words with the two of them after all of this.

An awkward and heavy silence fell over them. Gandalf's face was void of any anger as he happily munched on his honey cake--his honey cakes, Bilbo petulantly grouse in his head. Glorfindel and Erestor were smiling indulgently at each other, like Gandalf wasn't seconds away for setting someone on fire. Beorn was patting the hand on his knee, as if Bilbo needed the comfort. Bilbo would've cursed their ridiculousness had it not been for the scowl etched onto Dimia's face. Dread filled Bilbo up. This wasn't good. This was bad. Beorn had insulted her race and blamed a member of her family. And he was friends with Beorn, and willingly letting him pat his hand, not reprimanding him for his behavior. Bilbo couldn't help but feel a little traitorous. Dimia was a friend as well, on the verge of becoming good friends had they had more time to get to know each other. This was more than just bad--this was a monumental disaster.

In attempt to say their tentative friendship, Bilbo smiled apologetically, since Beorn would never apologize. Men and their pride. Sometimes, Bilbo simply wanted to hit them on the head for their obstinacy. Dimia, having caught Bilbo's eyes, quickly smile at Bilbo, all warm and fond, bewildering and comforting him. Bewildering him in the sense that her face could go from incensed to kind in a instance, and comforting in the sense that he hadn't lost her friendship, but he wasn't entirely pleased. He wanted his two friends to get along, damn it. His discontent and bewilderment only grew as time marched one. Dimia would increasingly send cold looks to Beorn and sweet smiles his way. Bilbo was too unnerved by her actions to solely focus on how much Beorn was teasing him about his hair being longer, as he always did, and to not be as upset when Beorn ruffled his hair. Beorn kept serving him tea and feeding him honey cakes and fruit he had brought to the table to keep Bilbo's attention on him, which seemed to further anger Dimia.

Bilbo had no idea what to do to get them to talk to each other to settle the animosity between them because Beorn was making it mission to ignore the Queen. Bilbo really had no idea what to do with the worried glances Balin was shooting him. Surely, they would've guessed by now that Beorn wouldn't harm him?

Balin, being the diplomat that he was, finally said something or rather asked something:

"How long have you known Beorn, Bilbo?" Balin questioned, managing to be the only one to smile at the skinchanger. The other either glared or send withering looks at the Man.

"Since I was fifty-nine, I believe," Bilbo pensively said then looked at Beorn for confirmation. Beorn paused in his attempt to detangle Bilbo's wavy hair to nod in confirmation. No matter how much Bilbo tried, he could never get his hair to stay short. Whenever he cut it, much to the Elves' distress, it would quickly grow back to hang just above his shoulders. Bilbo should be happy his hair parted on the left side and down the middle and could be easily combed back over his ears or seeing would be a hassle. He'd panicked at first when his hair grew back so quickly but was quickly assured by Gandalf and Elrond that he would exhibit some aspect of Yavanna's physical appearance, which was why he was so slim. Unlike most Hobbits, Bilbo couldn't gain weight to save his life. He could eat from now on till the end of time, and he would stay the same size. He was grateful, however, that he could develop some muscles, or he would've never been able to keep up with the Elves when they spared. Taking on some of the traits not Yavanna would also explain why he was 4' 8", well about the average height of any Hobbit.

"And how old are you now, laddie?" Balin asked, snapping Bilbo's attention back to him.

"Ninety," Beorn tersely answered, twisting his body to the right, so he could detangled the right side of Bilbo's head.

"Beorn," Bilbo softly chastised while Balin's bushy eyebrows rose up in surprise. It had been a long time: 18 years in Hobbit and Dwarf years and thirty-one in Human years. "We've met when parents and I were traveling to Greenwood," Bilbo added before Balin could ask.

"I smelt Hobbits on my land and had to investigate," Beorn said in a voice void of all emotions. At least it wasn't rude or abrupt. Bilbo huffed at his manners and at his lie. Beorn hadn't smelt them. Like all of the plants and animals of Arda, Beorn had sensed his presents before  he got a whiff of someone entering his territory. Seeing a colossal bear running out of the woods had terrified them all that day, even the Elves who knew of Beorn's existence.

Balin lowly chuckled. "I know what you mean," he grinned at the skinchanger, "we were quite shocked ourselves to see three Hobbits so far outside they Shire." Some of Bilbo's tension eased out of him, knowing at least Balin was warming up to Beorn, and if Bilbo could get Balin on his and Beorn's side, they could convince the Queen to make an attempt to get along with Beorn. Sinking in relief, Bilbo relaxed into Beorn and softly sighed. He startled, however, when a teacup loudly clattered onto a plate.

Dimia's face was impassive, though her eyes had darkened. "Is it a customs for him to carry you on his shoulder and seat you on his lap and...?" she trailed off, even though Bilbo knew what they last thing was.

"No," Bilbo hurriedly answered in unison with Beorn's "Yes."

She raised an querying eyebrow.

Bilbo heavily sighed, relief all gone, swallowed up by apprehension. "Well...yes," Bilbo affirmed, not looking at her. "We Hobbits love traveling by foot," Bilbo went on explaining. "It's how we normally travel, not horses and ponies. I only do it out of necessity to get to places faster. But Beorn here still believes that I travel only by foot, so whenever I visit him, he insists on carrying me around, so I can rest my aching feet." Bilbo didn't mean to sound fond, but Beorn could be so ridiculous and thoughtful sometimes.

Dimia didn't seem too pleased with what Bilbo told her or his tone, judging by the forced smile she gave. Balin sighed in defeat, and Bilbo was right along with him. It was going to take a lot to get those two to get along.

"That's so sweet of him," she coldly said.

"Well, I care a great deal for Bunny," he returned just as coldly, finally looking at her. Bilbo really missed the hand in his hair.

"I can see that."

"Good."

"Laddie, you mentioned something about being born of the earth?” Balin swiftly asked, to put an end to the standoff between Dimia and Beorn. “Do you mind explaining that?" Bilbo strongly believed his gratitude would've killed him in that moment. Gandalf and the Elves were lucky they were out of arm's reach, or he would've strangled them for their snickering. Bilbo smiled in thanks. A story would be a great way to distract the two to them.

"Yes," Bilbo said. "We Hobbits are born of the earth. It's a story that many don't know and has been passed down for centuries now. It was said that Yavanna saw that the population of Men and Dwarrows were growing, and she became fearful for the plants of Middle Earth. She was afraid the Ents wouldn't be enough to defend her creations. Seeing her distress, Aulë convinced her to plead once again to Eru for help. So, she did, and he took pity on her. He told her to fashioned the creatures she wished to protect her creations, and he will give them true life, like he did for her husband's children."

"Overjoyed, she was rushed off to gather as much clay as she would need. But in her joy, she didn't forget what her husband and father was doing for her, so she decided to honor them in her creation. Using the Elves and Men as a model, she created a hybrid of the two, but made the first Hobbits to look more like Men than Elves because she knew how fond her father was of Elves and didn’t want to upset him. She made their faces look similar to Men and Elves and gave them ears similar to Elves, but she made their stature similar to Dwarrows and their lifespans the same as Dwarrows in honor of her husband. The only difference was she gave them feet larger than the rest, giving them the ability to travel great distances."

"When Yavanna was finished, she took her creations to Eru, and he gave them life. After thanking her father, she gathered up her children and took them to Middle Earth, where she placed them in the Valley of the Anduin River to live. She taught them how to grow things, so that the land would never be without greenery, that no matter how much of her plants and tree were destroyed by Men and Dwarrows, there will always be a Hobbit to plant at least one more in its place."

"The land we now sit on still rightfully belong to the Hobbits," Beorn added to their captivated audience. It was a little disconcerting to see looks of awe on the faces of Dwarrows, who had only sneered at him, but Bilbo would take this reaction any day.

"We gave this land up to travel to the Shire, Beorn," Bilbo reminded.

"You didn't give it up," Beorn fervidly defended. "You were forced to leave it because Sauron's evil was infecting Greenwood and spreading to your ancestor's lands."

"We still abandoned it," Bilbo sullenly said.

"But not after years of  trying to grow things and helping the Greenwood Elves to save their woods," Beorn pointed out. "It was only after many of your little 'uns were dying that you all left the safety of Anduin to find a new home, through a Goblin infested Mountain and lands filled with wandering Orcs."

Bilbo ducked under their gazes, but looked up in surprise when the Queen spoke.

"I'm beginning to see we were  so very wrong about Hobbits," Dimia said, smiling softly at Bilbo and making his cheeks color in shyness.

"Not all Hobbits," Beorn said, and there was no coldness or malice in his voice toward her but toward other Hobbits. "Most of them are spineless and fearful of what they don't understand. Many would rather stay in a the safety of the Shire and forget about the outside world. They can also be just as selfish as they are giving. And cruel as they are kind."

"But like you said--that isn't all of them," Dimia added, staring Beorn right in the eyes. "Some are very kind and giving. And have spines made of mithril, willing to travel with Dwarrows he knows nothing about."

"Well, he had always been different and oh so very special," Beorn said, fondness finally seeping into his voice.

"Very special indeed." Fondness found a way into Dimia's voice as well.

As much as Bilbo hated when a conversation shifted and he was out of the loop, he was immensely grateful they were no longer filled with hatred for each other, though Bilbo knew all the anger wasn't gone. But complimenting Bilbo made someone at least good in Beorn's book. It was a tentative start, and that was all Bilbo could hope for.

~ ❧ ~

Beorn's garden was just as Bilbo remembered, making Bilbo shake his head in exasperation. Why was Beorn even hiding his face from in the first place? The large section of land Beorn set aside for his garden was still filled with various trees from apple to plum to cherry. Spinning around the small circular clearing in the center, Bilbo took in all the rows of flowers Beorn had planted: lilacs, lavender, peonies, jasmine and a plethora of others. The one thing that outshined the others was the number of  beehives in Beorn's garden. They littered the ground, hiding in flower beds, behinds trees or in plain sight, that wasn't even counting the ones in the tree.

The hives were all empty, though, since all of Beorn's giant bees were flocking around him, swaying from side to side or circling around him, voicing their greetings. Bilbo greeted than in turns until they all scurried away.

"Why must you always scare them away?" Bilbo grumbled. A booming laugh resounded behind him. Bilbo turned around to glare at the laughing Man, who was bathed in the light of a slowly setting sun, making his already tanned skin more golden.

"They ran away because they know they need to get their work done before night sets in," Beorn said before the smile on his face turned playful. "Why? Does it anger you, Bunny?"

"Watch it, Bear," Bilbo playfully warned, trying so hard not to smile.

"Still think you can take me now that you've lost your height advantage," Beorn kittenishly challenged.

Bilbo flexed his fingers. "Ready to get your arse handed to you by a little Hobbit?"

Beorn crouched down and menacingly growled before launching himself at Bilbo, shifting into his bear form and ripping through his clothing. Faster than the eyes could see, thick roots shot up from the ground and wrapped themselves around Beorn's middle, trapping the trashing bear mid-air in a web of interconnecting vines and root. Beorn furiously roared.

"Beorn, hush!" Bilbo hissed, on the verge of dissolving into giggles at the pathetically annoyed and frustrated looks Beorn was throwing at him.

"Gandalf and your Elves are keeping them busy," Beorn grunted as he tried to claw at the vines but to no avail.

"They're not my Elves," Bilbo groused. "If anything, they're are each other's Elf."

Beorn stalled in his quest to acquire freedom. "I see they finally figured that out."

"They didn't figure anything out. I made Glorfindel fall onto Erestor, and then they figured it out."

Beorn grinned, showing two rows of very sharp, white teeth. "I highly doubt matchmaking was what Yavanna had in mind when she made you," he smirked.

"Keep that up and see if I let you down," Bilbo smirked back.

"I don't need any help," he stubbornly growled, trashing and clawing about again and making no progress. Bilbo amusedly crossed his arms and waited. After what may have been fives minutes of a fruitless attempts, Beorn ultimately gave in.

"You have gotten stronger," he remarked, sounding a tad accusingly.

"It's like you've not been reading the letters I've sent you " Bilbo said, rolling his eyes in fond exasperation. Yearly letter had always made their way to those Bilbo left in the outside world and was his solace on some of the dreary days in the Shire.

"Just put me down," Beorn commanded, looking like a ruffled little cub. "Bilbo!" Beorn whined as Bilbo made tiny cluster of pink rhododendron blooms on the vines. Bilbo exuberantly laughed at the sour face he was getting before forcing the roots back into the ground and causing vines to die away. Once upon a time, the sounds of dying plants and animals had terrified him to the point where he had locked himself away from the world, but he had long since come to accept that death was unavoidable. Plants and animals die all the time. They are eaten all the time. It was the natural order of things. But it wasn't all morbid. Those that died inevitably gave back to the earth when they decayed and gave rise to new life. And the decaying vines before him were going to provide much needed nourishment to the grass beneath him.

Nothing was ever truly lost--just recycled.

Just before Beorn's paws touched the ground, Bilbo spun around around and took off running, laughing as he went.

"Bilbo!" Beorn mightily roared as he took off after Bilbo. Bilbo didn't get far, though, before fangs clammed over the back of his tunic, and he was pulled back, falling into a soft, furry stomach of an overly warm bear. Giggling, Bilbo arranged them until Beorn was lying on his stomach, and Bilbo had his back to the man. Bilbo had made it to the more forest-like section of Beorn's garden, where most of the trees were located.

They sat in silence for some time with Bilbo admiring the different blossoms. Spring always came early for this part of Arda, starting from the East then making its way West to the Shire and beyond.

"What happened in the Shire?" Beorn asked, drawing Bilbo back to the present as his thoughts were starting to stray to Esmeralda and the others, and how they must be preparing their gardens and fields.

"I can do more than just talk to animals," was Bilbo's answer.

"Ah," was all Beorn said.

"Gandalf wasn't all that surprised either," Bilbo told him, burrowing his back farther into the bear's thick fur, seeking comfort and familiarity. His friends weren't the only ones he was missing. His mother positively adored Beorn, and his father adored his garden. It was strange not having them with him, but this was his choice, and he'd to see it through. He needed to be brave and stop fearing the world he was meant to live in--a world he was more connected to than anyone else.

"And we shouldn't be," Beorn remarked. "But we keep forgetting you have a piece of Yavanna's grace in you, not one of her powers but a piece of her. Her powers are your powers." Beorn Nuzzled the side of his head. "The fact that you look more ethereal atest to that." Once before Bilbo would've panic and said he was not his own person but a mere imitation of Yavanna on Middle Earth but had since learned that to be false. His soul was weaved together then molded into what it was now, making him his own person: a Helper and  Blessed One, who was given the free will to choose how he wanted to use the powers he was given to help after he was finished with the task he was created to carry out.

They lapsed into another stretch of silence before Beorn spoke again. "Are you sure it's wise to go with the Dwarrows to their mountain?"

"I know you don't like Dwarrows," Bilbo relied, "but you don't have anything to worry about me. I have Gandalf, Glorfindel, and Erestor with me. Plus, I know how to defend myself without my powers. Besides, I think the Queen likes me well enough-what was that?" Bilbo questioned when Beorn grumbled to himself. When he got no answer, Bilbo jabbed Beorn's stomach with his elbow. "What did say? Please tell me you didn't insult her because she's very nice, and you can't blame her all the things her race did," Bilbo sternly finished.

Beorn petulantly grumbled but didn't contradict him. Bilbo jabbed him again. "Be nice. She's a friend, too. And I would like for the two of you to get along."

"I'll try," he reluctantly said.

"Good," Bilbo smugly said, "because we're going to spending a few days here, and I would like it if you all don't kill each other by them."

"I make no promises," Beorn ribbed.

"Beorn!" Bilbo squeaked before scrambling up to fake wrestle with the giant bear, both of them laughing in the warm golden light.

~  ❧ ~

"I thought I might find you here," a soft voice said from behind Bilbo, making him start and almost dropping his book.

Bilbo righted himself, closed his book and placed it on the bench he was sitting on. It was a wooden bench Beorn had made himself for Bilbo for whenever Bilbo wanted to sit in the garden, though Bilbo loved laying on the grass more.

"I'm surprised Nori didn't tell you I was here," Bilbo calmly said as Dimia took a seat next to him. "Now why is that, Nori?"

Said Dwarf stepped out from behind the last tree he was hiding behind, looking completely unabashed, though admiration was shining in his eyes. Bilbo was going to count that as a win. Now all he needed to do was win the other the respect of the other five Dwarrows. Well, maybe not Glóin as much since all he shot at Bilbo was assessing looks. Bilbo hoped he found what he was looking for soon.

The Dwarf's smug look fell off his face and was replaced with shame before he ran off. Oh, so, she was the one that scared him off that time. Bilbo was greatly impressed. Nori seemed like the Dwarf who had seen some horrible things in his life, so to strike fear in him was quite impressive. And sad. No one should have to face so much horror in his or her life.

"I'm so sorry about that," Dimia fervently apologized. "Nori wasn't supposed to be spying on you."

Bilbo was touched and warm inside. "It's all right," Bilbo assured her. "He wasn't bothering me."

"Regardless, he had specific orders to not bother you." Bilbo was about to reassure her but figured it would be fruitless. He was learning that Dwarrows were as stubborn as he'd been told.

"Did you need me for something?" Bilbo asked instead.

"No," she said. "I was hoping you would like to have a little chat."

"I would love to," Bilbo smiled then faltered when her eyes shifted to the distance that quickly back to Bilbo's face. Moria, Bilbo's mind supplied. "Do you want to talk about it?" Bilbo kindly asked.

She seemed to debate it for a second before she said, "There's not much to talk about. We foolishly decided to reclaim our ancestral home and almost destroyed it in our attempt."

"It's not foolish to want to reclaim what was once your home," Bilbo sympathetically told her. If his parents ever lost Bag End, Bilbo would fight with all his might to get it back.

"Maybe," she acquiesced, "but we should have never gone behind the Elves' back and tried to invade the mountain ourselves." Bilbo didn't know what to say to that because it was wrong of them to go behind their ally's back. Dimia seemed extremely pleased with his silence, and Bilbo was just as pleased and proud of himself. "Your friend has every right to be angry with us." That was something Bilbo didn't fully agree with.

"He has a right to be angry about the amount of animals he had lost and the plants that had been destroyed when the Orcs and Goblins fled the mountain," Bilbo seriously said, "but he had no right to take it all out on you. You weren't the cause of all of that. And he only took that out on you since you're the first Dwarf to meet him in centuries."

"I should've prevented it," she gravely said, pain and sadness in those emerald eyes of hers.

"How were you supposed to stop something you knew nothing about? Up until yesterday, you didn't even know he existed."

"I should've asked the Elves like he said."

"That would've lovely conversation," Bilbo sarcastically said, rolling his eyes at her. "'Oh, hello, Thranduil, there wouldn't happen to be a giant shapeshifting man living between the Misty Mountains and Greenwood, would there? Wait, you should ask him that. I would love to see his reaction to that."

The two of them burst out laughing.

"Hopefully, the fear will get that stick out his arse," Bilbo laughed then slapped a hand over his mouth in horror. Dimia simply laughed harder.

"I take it they don't get along?" Dimia grinned.

"Beorn finds Thranduil too uptight for his liking," Bilbo chuckled. "And they both don't like how much time I spend with the other," he finished in fond exasperation. She laughed again. Good. Bilbo wanted to keep her mind off of Moria.

"You'll do nicely," she critically said, grinning. But before Bilbo could decipher what she meant, Gandalf called him inside for second breakfast.

~ ❧ ~

It wasn't until three days later that Bilbo and the rest set out for Greenwood. And Bilbo was both excited and depressed. He was excited because he was getting that much closer to  Erebor. He was depressed because he wanted more time to spend with his friend, but Dimia had important work in Greenwood. And They couldn't stay longer

Beorn wasn't any better, grumbling more often than not, though he made an attempt to be cordial with the Dwarrows. It was adorable to watch him try to converse with them. Bilbo was very proud of him.He was even prouder that Beorn was bidding his goodbye to the Queen.

"I hope you enjoyed your stay here," he said, stoic.

"I did," she said, smiling. "And to thank you for that, I promise you that any Dwarf that crosses your land shall not hunt any animals or destroy any greenery he or she comes across, lest he or she wishes to lose his or her beard."

'That seemed weak,' Bilbo thought, but Beorn looked very surprised and very pleased. Perhaps, it wasn't as weak as he thought.

"I shall hold you to that," Beorn seriously said then smiled down at her and held out her hand. She took it, and they firmly shook hands. His smile then turned sweet and overly innocent. "Any harm befalls him, and I will end your race."

"Beorn!" Bilbo admonished as the Man walked up to him and Dimia lively laughed behind him. "I should hit your for that," Bilbo firmly stated, and Beorn shrugged, unashamed, then pulled Bilbo into a tight hug.

"Next time you visit, I expect you to stay at least a month," Beorn demanded, and Bilbo nodded. Beorn pulled back. "Now scurry on along, Bunny." Bilbo did hit him this time, blushing under the chorus of laughter surrounding him.

"Watch it, Bear."

"Try not to cause too much trouble when you get there," he jokingly told him, sidestepping this time to avoid another hit to his chest. "And try not to kill the three of them when you do get there." Beorn’s cryptic smile was very unnerving right now, and yet again, before he could ask what was meant, Gandalf interrupted.

"Come along, Bilbo. We're losing sunlight," he said.

Bilbo shot him a small glare before focusing on the grinning Man. "Goodbye, Beorn. I shall see you again soon."

"Goodbye, Bunny. And give my regards to Thranduil."

"I will," Bilbo promised as those who knew what they were referring to chuckled.

This trip was turning out better than he'd hoped. And it was only going to get better. Next stop: Greenwood then the Lonely Mountain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like the Hobbit lore I came up with. 
> 
> Thanks for reading. :)


	11. Stubborness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trek through Greenwoods and the Elfking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy.

Greenwood was quieter that Bilbo remembered. That wasn't to say there wasn't a plethora of sounds. There was. It was just...less. And on one seemed to suspect anything was different. Gandalf, who Bilbo hoped would share in his surprise, being a Maiar and all, was leaning on a tree, smoking his pipe and chatting with the younger Dwarrows as if nothing was amiss. Bilbo could also be overreacting, and there was nothing to worry about. After all, some of the animals had been scared off by the rowdy Dwarrows. And the trees were fond of their reservedness.

The Dwarrows had a right to be lively. It wasn't until they reached the edge of Greenwood that a raven met up with them carrying news of the Dwarrows in Moria. The cleanup had been finished, which greatly surprised Bilbo because from what Beorn was insinuating the damages was severe but, apparently, was quickly handled, and the Dwarrows were heading to Thranduil's home.

Bilbo himself was considerably relieved to hear of the good news. He merely wished the raven had relay the good news to the Queen first instead of him. He was squirming and suffocating with fear throughout the whole ordeal as the raven, Goräc, told him the message and asked if Bilbo was pleased with him. Bilbo was saved from answering by Gandalf, who plucked the bird from his perch on Bilbo's arms before it could give anything away, claiming he needed the bird to pass on an important message to King Thrór.

The others had shot him suspicious glance, and when his brain was no longer clogged with fear, he cooked up a story about meeting a few of the ravens in Greenwood and befriending them, Goräc being one of them. They all seemed to reluctantly accept the lie, except Balin and Dimia. The two of them continued to shoot him shrewd looks, which Glorfindel and Erestor shielded him from, talking about what they planned to do in Greenwood once the got there while Bilbo surreptitiously informed a brown squirrel what his lie was, so that the raven and Gandalf would know what to say when they got back. It barely worked thanks to the Dwarrows celebrating the good news, a speedy squirrel and a crafty Wizard.

Bilbo looked forward to the day when he wouldn't have to hide who he was. Hopefully, those in Middle Earth would understand what he did what he did. And hopefully, his new friend wouldn't treat him any differently. He'd already suffered through that once enough. He strongly didn't want to again.

"That's enough of a break for now," Glóin announced, drawing all their attention to him and his already mounted horse. "The sooner we get to the palace, the sooner we can get settled."

The other Dwarrows grumbled their assent, not once sparing Bilbo a glance. He was the reason they even stopped in the first place. It had been two day since the raven incident, and they were short distance from the entrance to Thranduil's palace, but Gandalf had stopped them, so that Bilbo didn't miss Elevenses. The Dwarrows had been understanding before, mostly because they were afraid of Gandalf, but their kin was heading to Thranduil's realm after a battle, and they wanted to be there as soon as possible, so they could prepare for their arrival. Bilbo could understand that. And he tried to stop Gandalf from requesting so many breaks, but the stubborn Wizard wouldn't budge.

Even Dimia had taken the Wizard's side, claiming they had plenty of time since they were ahead, and it was extremely rude of them to disregard Bilbo's culture when he'd been trying to learn of theirs, so he could better understand them. It had been true. Regardless of the raven incident, Dimia and Balin had not relented in their attempt to provide him with tiny snippets into Dwarven culture while getting to know him. They refused to tell him too much, though, claiming he had to see Erebor to truly understand Dwarven culture. They didn't need to persuade him any further since he was hellbent on going there no matter what.

Although he knew they were sincere in both endeavors, Bilbo also knew they were just biding their time, so they could figure out the best way to do damage control when they meet with Thranduil. In addition to biding their time, Bilbo figured they plan to use his presence as a buffer between themselves and the Elf king. To what extent, he wasn't sure. They could use him to completely distract Thranduil, or they could use him to help soothe some of his ire. Bilbo wasn't in the least bit offended--he was entirely curious to see how this played out. Besides, if Dimia and Balin didn't want him to catch onto their intent, they should have never had the Dwarrows change their behavior around him. Dwarrows suddenly going from suspicious and glaring to passive around him wasn't exactly subtle. It wasn't even less so when Haran tried smiling at him last night: it was too forced and frankly, terrifying. Bilbo couldn't remember if he smiled back or grimace. He did, however, know he did not keep eyes contact for very long.

 **  
**To say the least, the visit to Thranduil's home would be very interesting, and Bilbo was even more excited. And his humming as he went about getting ready to leave attest to that fact. **  
**

Close to two hours later, the entrance to the Halls came into view. And Bilbo was tempted to ride on ahead to greet their young golden haired greeter. But Dimia was queen, and it was only fitting she be the one to accept Thranduil's hospitality, even if they were moving at glacial speed. It came as some consolidation that Legolas was just as irritated at their speed as he was. So much for wanting to get to the palace as soon as possible, Bilbo groused.

"Greetings, Your Majesty," Legolas cordially welcomed her with a small bow of his head, though his blue eyes were distractedly shifting from her face to those behind her. It was a blessing Thranduil had no intention of giving up the throne just yet. And Bilbo planned on telling him as such as well as familiarize his hand with the back of Legolas's head. Fondness be damned. She was an honored guest and deserved all his attention!

"Greetings, Prince Legolas," Dimia responded in slightly strained voice. Bilbo was sure he sighed louder than his three friends. Legolas's sharp cheek colored in shame. So, he heard them, Bilbo presumed. Good. "I'm surprised to see here," Dimia went on, either ignoring their reactions, or she didn't hear them, "seeing as my spymaster hasn't spotted any of the Silvan Elves since we entered the forest."

"Uh..."

The resounding smack Bilbo gave his forehead could probably be heard all the way back to the Shire. Was his presence really that distracting? Because Legolas was normally far more attentive  than this.

"I sent word ahead," Gandalf announced, gaining the attention of the Dwarrows and the relieved sagging of Legolas's shoulders. "I had Goräc come here before heading over to the mountains." Dimia nodded, satisfied, and Legolas composed himself before her attention was on him again.

"My father offers his warmest welcome and would gladly open his halls to a trusted and valued ally for however long her stay is in our lovely abode." The welcome sounded too practiced, even to Bilbo's ears. So, word had indeed spread. Trust Galadriel to not dally when it came to important matters.

She arced a skeptical eyebrow. "His warmest welcome?"

Legolas winced and said no more but led her through the entrance to the Halls after they and dismounted and left their horses and belongings for the servant Elves. Though being a lover of the earth and dirt, it still surprised Bilbo how much he was in awe of the Elvenking's Halls. The place itself was carved into a hill with  no small amount of extravagance. The columns holding up the dwelling areas were intricately carved to resemble intertwining tree roots, no matter that there were tree roots protruding from the ceiling above them from the trees all around the hill and the very few on top.  The small waterfall was still roaring at any travelers who entered it dwelling place and aided in the growth of moss and fungi, possibly the only greenery here, adding color to the place. There were numerous lanterns that hanged on the wall and ceilings like large fireflies, flickering in the gentle breeze that swept through the halls.

Thranduil's throne room was no less magnificent with the same column structures surrounding the small circular area that housed his throne, which was a throne carved out of wood with moose antlers fanning out of the seat. The air in the room was as warm as there rest of the halls, though not a stifling as the air of self-importance and superiority that seemed to flow out of the king sitting on the throne. From his place up high, Thranduil was smiling past the Dwarrows to Bilbo. There no point in rolling his eyes because it would do nothing to deter the Elvenking’s attention to his more important guests, but Bilbo did it anyway.

"Bilbo Baggins," Thranduil cheerfully said, rising from his throne then descending the stairs leading up to the throne. He bypassed Dimia and the other Dwarrows without a single glance to amble up to the entrance of his throne room, where Bilbo and the others were. "Welcome," Thranduil warmly said before bending down to give him a tight hug. Bilbo didn't hug back. Thranduil simply hugged him tighter. Honestly, someone was going to die before they reached the mountain. "Come," he instructed after letting go and tried to lead Bilbo out of the room with a hand on the small of Bilbo's back. Bilbo held his ground while someone let out a squeak and another let out a small growl. Bilbo, too, would've been insulted by the lack of respect.

He forcefully smacked Thranduil's chest, ignoring the sounds of surprise and chuckling, and leveled the King with a glower filled with some disappointment mixed in there. Thranduil angrily huffed, and Bilbo hit him again.

Rubbing his chest, Thranduil swirled around to greet his guest. "Welcome, Queen Dimia. I hope you had no trouble getting her? Excellent!" he exclaimed, not going her a chance to answer. "Legolas, will show you to your rooms. I--"

"Bilbo!" Twin shouts interrupted Thranduil before two dark-haired Elves roughly brushed past the King and pulled him into a crunching hug. He would know those two loudmouths anywhere, and how the never seemed to run out of air while his was quickly evacuating his lungs. Two loud smack followed, and the pressure was gone and his lungs filled up again.

"Adar!" the two exclaimed, and Bilbo had no time to relish in his surprise as he pushed the affronted Elladan and Elrohir out of the way. Wide expectant eyes stared at the Elvenking, who colored and glared at his...sons?

Two feminine chortles drew his eyes away from the blushing King to see Arwen and Tauriel standing off to the side, looking as pristine as ever.

"Don't look so insulted, Bilbo," she laughed, and he didn't even know he was projecting such an emotion. "Ada and--" she looked slyly at Thranduil, "--Adar haven't been keeping things from you." (That was debatable.) "Elladan and Elrohir have merely taken to calling him that as a jest."

"Or so they claim," Tauriel smirked.

The twin red-faced Elves ignored them and faced Bilbo again. "We came as soon as we heard you've arrived," Elrohir told him.

"Yes, the En-ow!" Thranduil pulled on Elladan's ear then reached out and took Elrohir's ear in his other hand.

"Why don't you two help Legolas show the Dwarrows to their rooms before I have to send a missive to your father, stating I had to kill his son because they couldn't keep their mouths shut." He tugged a little harder on their ears, earning louder protests.

"Keep their mouths shut about what?" Bilbo questioned, trying not to smile at the indignant looks the twins were shooting Thranduil.

"Now, run along you three. You have guest to attend to." Bilbo uselessly rolled his eyes and waved goodbye to the twins, Legolas, Balin and Dimia as they were led away to their rooms. Balin and Dimia looked relieved, and Bilbo would be, too. Thranduil had quite the temper on him.Being ignored was better than being shouted at.

When the last of the Dwarrows had left, Bilbo crossed his arms and impatiently tapped his feet on the stone floor beneath him."Well?"

"I've had your rooms tidied up for your arrival," the evasive Elf informed him, trying once again to lead him out of the throne room.

"Thranduil," Bilbo warned, resisting. The Elf sighed and relented.

"It's a surprise."

"What kind of surprise?" Bilbo asked, though he could gather it was a person, which begged the question of how he or she knew he had arrived so quickly, and who was he or she? All he knew and cared about, he'd already met. And if Galadriel had been here, she would've made her presence known by now. He did let Thranduil lead in away from the room down to the corridor he knew lead to the upper halls.

"You'll see," he cryptically answered. Bilbo wanted to prod him further, but the stubborn set of Thranduil's jaw dissuaded him. Bilbo nodded his acquisition before exaggeratedly sighing. "What?"

"It's such a shame the surprise isn't a wedding," Bilbo said with faux sadness in his voice, prompting the others to burst out laughing. Thranduil glared at him. Simply because he couldn't asked about his present didn't mean he couldn't find other ways to pester his friend.

"If I do recall correctly, I'm the one who would be feeding you, correct?" Thranduil sniffed.

"And if I remembered correctly, I'm the one who governed the land and plants you got said food from, right?" Bilbo retorted.

The Elvenking's lip twitched. "Sadly," he mumbled, and Bilbo hit him, causing a rumbling laugh inside Elf. When he finished laughing, he said, "Elrond and I are quite content with our arrangement."

"What? Sending your children to the other's realm so you have an excuse to go to other's home to return them?"

"We are not using our children," he indignantly refuted. Arwen snorted from behind him. Thranduil stopped to scowl at her and got a sweet smile in return. If there was anyone who wouldn't put up with Thranduil's bad temper, it was Arwen. "They are merely serving as envoy to show continued good relations between the Elven kingdoms."

"Yes," Bilbo dryly stated, "because spending four months out the year in the other's kingdom, attached to each other's body isn't enough of a sign of good relation."

"There are some things a daughter doesn't need to hear about her father, either of them," Arwen said, a little pained, above all the snickering and a spluttering king. Thranduil sent withering looks to both of  them though they could see him trying to will his face to not soften when he faced Arwen.

"We're only teasing," Bilbo smiled at his dear friend. "We're very happy that the two of you are happy."

"Yes," Arwen agreed, looking wistful. "It's just this century would be perfect for a wedding, no?" Bilbo bit his lip to keep his laugher in.

"Then Bilbo best find himself a bride and soon," Thranduil plainly stated in retribution and swiftly strode away from them. His sonorous laughter drowning out the sputtering Hobbit and his greatly amused companions. Bilbo didn't need a wife or anything for that matter. He was perfectly fine on his own.

"Get back here, Thranduil!"  

"I have guest not attend to," Thranduil shot over his shoulders. "Wasn't it you who told me it's rude to ignore ones guests?"

"Get back here, you insolent Elf!" Bilbo shouted, speeding after him.

"Ins--Bilbo there is no running in my halls!" Thranduil shrieked and took of speed walking, because a king never rushed. It was the most humbling and exhilarating thing, though, to have the normally stoic Elf get rid of his façade to indulge him in his teasing and letting his laughter ring through his normally quite the halls.

Why had Bilbo waited so long to leave the Shire?

~ ❧ ~

Dinner that night was...something. Bilbo had yet to figure out what that something was. Interesting maybe? A challenge possibly? Whatever it was, it was certainly palpable. They were gathered in the feasting halls. The Elves of greenwood were avoiding the Dwarrows as if they were covered in sores and boils, and the Dwarrows were avoiding the Elves as if they had just come from rolling around in dung.Most would call it loathing,  Bilbo would call it progress. They were no longer openly hostile toward each other, and their sharp tongues stayed in their mouth, for the most part. Though, credit could be due to both races being on opposite sides of the banquet hall. Still, progress.

The only Dwarrows who were missing from the far left table were Dimia, Glóin, and Balin. Those three were seat at Thranduil's personal table with Bilbo and the others. Conversation was free flowing within the hall. Conversation between the two ruler, howevers was strained, but there was conversation thanks to Bilbo's foot and a certain king's left tibia. Bilbo simply wished they would've talked about the metaphysical axe hanging above their heads before dinner instead of having to dance around it as they currently were.

How they even got anything done was besides him. It was even more so when Thranduil opened his mouth.

"How is that son of yours?" Thranduil nonchalantly asked, and Bilbo winched, knowing quite well Thranduil was about to rile Dimia up. His foot missed this time, hitting Thranduil's chair instead. "Still full of himself?"

"You might want to mind your tongue, Elf, if you wish to keep it," Glóin spat, slamming his fist on the table as he got up. The red-faced Dwarf wasn't the only out of their seat: everyone else not at Thranduil's table were as well. The Dwarrows even had their weapons drawn.

"Last time I tell him something," Gandalf muttered under his breath, clearly meaning for no one to hear him, but Bilbo did, seeing as he was sitting so close to the man.

"What in all of Arda is that supposed to mean?" Bilbo quietly hissed back, eyeing the livid Queen, who apparently was trying very hard to not look at Bilbo. Odd. Bilbo hadn't much time to decipher her behavior or get Gandalf's response since she spoke up. Extremely menacingly, he might add.

"My son is hardly full of himself, Your Majesty." There was  more contempt in the title than Bilbo thought Dimia was capable of, which shouldn't be such a surprise. Dimia herself said Dwarrows were passionate creatures, especially when it came to their Ones, their family, and their craft. And Thranduil insulted the second of the three.Most Hobbits would take than as a lifelong vendette. "And if you have any slight against me, I would entreat you to tell me so, not bring my family into this."

"And I can assure you I have no slight against you. My disapproval lies with your son." The way Thranduil said that had Bilbo stopping the growing urge to reach over and throttle the Elf. His tone was too pointed, like Dimia should know what he was referring to. But by her confused--yet still angry--expression, she didn't. Gandalf did, though, if the way he defeatedly slouched in his seat and drowned his entire goblet of wine was to be taken seriously.

Understand then lit up Dimia face as she looked at the Wizard in surprise, though greatly pleased. Thranduil faced Gandalf with a searing look, like he was somehow hoping that sheer will would transfer Gandalf's powers to him, so he could light the Wizard of fire.

Bilbo, getting tired of all of them and their secrets, decided to speak up, even though what he had to say might not be what their conversation is remotely about. "Please tell me this isn't about me going to Erebor?"

"Yes," Thranduil said straight away, surprising him. He’d gotten it correct, it would seem. "I don't want you to go to Erebor. You're not going to Erebor--you'll stay here."

It would appear Bilbo was the one who got Gandalf's, with the way his anger was scorching his insides and the way every part of his body seemed to heat up, especially his back. Thranduil must have seen some of the rage in his eyes--since Bilbo rarely showed his anger--because he was immediately contrite.

"I will be going to Erebor, with or without your permission, dear friend," Bilbo calmly said, though his insides felt like it was being consumed by a wildfire. Dimia's brows disappeared into her hair, Balin looked impressed, and Thranduil looked ashamed. 'As he should be,' Bilbo callously thought then out loud, "And if my decision upsets you so, then I kindly ask you to speak to me about it, not take your anger out on someone else, and certainly not drag their family into it."

Bilbo uncaringlu raised a hand out to stop the apology he knew was coming, gently pushed himself out of his seat, and determinedly glided out of the room, leaving behind his stunned audience and his barely touched meal.

~ ❧ ~

Bilbo wasn't sure how long he walked for, but it didn't seem as if he'd gotten very far since he could still recognize his surroundings. He'd sneaked out of the palace and was wandering around aimlessly through the forest surrounding the hill Thranduil's Halls were carved into. A petty part of him wanted to head deeper into the forest and farther away from the others, but Bilbo couldn't be cruel to the others. They would no doubt be extremely worried if they couldn't locate him right away, which was why he was walking along the Forest River.

Bilbo was longer anger, partly due to the sound of steady flowing of water that seemed to surround him but largely due to the fact that the creatures and plants of the forest left home alone, something he was immensely thankful for. And he promised himself he would return tomorrow when he was himself again to properly thank them and to spend some time with them. But for now, he wanted to wallow in his disappointment.

Bilbo expected better from Thranduil since they both were beings who loathed to be told what to do by people who think they knew what was good for them. But no one knew what was right for them and what they wanted better than themselves. If he said he wanted to go to Erebor, then he was going there no matter what anyone else said. If he believed going to Erebor was right for him, then it damn well was.

Thranduil should have never taken the liberty of making a choice for Bilbo. He had no right to. And he certainly shouldn't have used someone to sway Bilbo's decision.

Bilbo stopped to pick up a rock to throw into the river but stilled when he felt a tug at the base of his stomach. His head snapped to the side where he felt the tug coming from. There was only one race that could call out to him in this way. Bilbo wasted no time, dashing forward, almost running as he dodged low hanging branches and parted through bushes and shrubs. The farther away he got from the river the more insistent the tugging became until it vanished, leaving him with the distinct sense and awareness of three different presence, which seemed to grow warmer inside not him the closer he got to them.

Pretty soon, Bilbo spotted the opening of a clearing up ahead, and he increased his speed, feeling exhilarating take hold of him then mirrored back by the three presence of ahead. Bilbo couldn't stop himself any longer. He took of running, joyously laughing as he went and hearing booming laughing flow back to him.

Before he knew it, he was bursting through the clearing to meet the three warm presence. The three Ents.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, "Adar" is "daddy" in Sindarin. Hmm. 
> 
> The end of the semester is drawing ever closer, and my work load is about to triple, so I don't know how often I will be able to write for this fic, but I will try.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	12. Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo finally gets his present(s).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finals week is finally over. I'm free! So, I'll have more time to write. Yay. lol

Bilbo came to an abrupt stop, not taking the time to catch his breath, and wheezed out, "You're…a long way…from home." The three Ents in front of him grinned down at him. With a heaving chest, Bilbo managed to grin back.

 Silverthorn, the twenty foot white ash, kneeled down in front of him. He had gotten old. His bark was a lighter gray than normal but still as thick as ever, most of his cylindrical branches shooting up to the sky but were without leaves. His nose was still as pointed as before, sticking out farther than the small branches that his beard was composed of. Even though Bilbo knew he couldn't die of old age, it still saddened him to see his dear friend's beautiful leaves fall out.

 ' _Maybe they would grow back_ ,' Bilbo thought as realization came to him. He had been wrong-- he hadn't seen all who were close to him.

"Hello, Little Mother," Silverthorn greeted, still smiling down at him.  Bilbo put both hands on his hip and tried to be stern but knew he failed because of how much his face was hurting from smiling. After the day he had, he needed this small piece of joy.

"That wasn't funny the first time," Bilbo weakly admonished, "and it still isn't." Though he may have a part of the Green Lady in him, he certainly wasn't her, but he couldn’t deny the Ents their fun, especially Silverthorn.

"Of course not," Helroot seriously said. She was one of the few Entwives in existence and was the wife of Silverthorn. She was a gray birch with a slimmer trunk, and slimmer arms and legs than her husband. She, on the other hand, had most of her leaves intact. And like her husband, her branches were straight up, and she reminded Bilbo of the head of a carrot. But unlike her husband, her face was located just where here branches and trunk met, and she had a smaller face with an even smaller nose.

"Thank you," Bilbo said.

"You're welcome," she responded. "But you really didn't need to thank me. You know how much I hate fallacies, and it as plain as day that you have grown quite a bit since we last met." There was silence for a bit before a booming laughing cut through his stunned demeanor.

Bilbo turned to glare at his final surprise. Because what else would they be but his surprise. Their presence here would also account for the unusual silence in the forest. If they were meant to be a surprise, then Bilbo couldn't see how the other creatures of the forest would not want in on this.

"Greetings, oh Blessed One," Fireroot greeted with a deep bow. Fireroot was the son of Silverthorn and Helroot. He was about five feet shorter than his parent, but that was due to him being significantly younger than both his parents. He was a black ash with a body type similar to his father that differed in color and healthfulness. He a massive head of leaves that hung down to just above his eyes, which were set in his trunk and on either side of a long nose.

Bilbo crossed his arms and mildly glared at the young Ent, who smiled back at him, un-reprimanded.

"Oh, don't be like that, Bilbo," bemoaned Silverthorn. "We merely meant it as a jest."

"I know that," Bilbo sincerely told, guilty that he saddened his friend. "I wasn't upset or anything. I'm actually very honored that you decided to call me by your friend's nickname."

Silverthorn smiled sadly at him. There was a slight tug to Bilbo’s heart. Oakeye, the first of Yavanna's Helpers, had been a great friend to Silverthorn. Both born not too far apart and had been inseparable ever since. When Oakeye had first manifested as a Helper, Silverthorn had started calling him 'Little Mother' to tease him but to also maintain a sense of normalcy among the Ents, showing he was the same old Ent and always would be. When Oakeye and the Elven Helpers had traveled to the Undying Lands over a century ago, Silverthorn had thought he'd lost his friend until Bilbo came along. He had declared Bilbo a friend, stating he was Oakeye's little brother since their soul shared a common mother, Yavanna. At the time, Bilbo wanted to comment that, though his logic was technically true, it wasn't how things worked but held his tongue seeing how elated Silverthorn was—how they all were. They got their friend back. So to the Ents, Bilbo would forever be known as Oakeye's younger brother. And he was completely okay with that.

"I know, little one," Silverthorn gently assured him, lowering his hand for Bilbo to step on. He lifted Bilbo up while saying, "Now why don't you tell us why you were so upset earlier?" Bilbo flushed. He was rather hoping they would've done what the other creatures did and ignore it, but no such luck there.

"Yes," Helroot agree. "You should be enjoying yourself in Thranduil's halls, not throwing rock in the river, all by yourself."

"Especially with what little life you have," Fireroot added. "Before you know it, you'll be called back."

Fireroot was referring to what one called 'The Calling.' For a majority of the Blessed Ones, it was the time in their lives when they knew their death was near. Normally, it was a few months before a Helper's dead, where he or she felt this intense need to return home--it was the grace in their souls itching to return to the land of the Valar. It was the Valar's way of letting the Helpers know their job had been done, and it was time for them to rest. For the immoral Blessed Ones, it was the call to make the journey across Belegaer to the Undying Lands to rest.

"But you don't have to worry about for a long time yet," Silverthorn said, glaring at his son, who had the decency to look abashed. Bilbo was far from upset since he was far too acquainted with death and knew his time would come one day, and planned on making the most of it.  "Now, tell me what's wrong."

Bilbo tiredly sighed then said, "Thranduil." A collective sigh followed.

"What has the Elfking done now?" Helroot said, looking so put out. It took some time getting used to Thranduil and even more to ignore some of his more troubling facets.

"He was one sentence short of forbidding me from going to Erebor," Bilbo told them; he was sure of it, had he not interrupted when he did.

"You're going to Erebor?" Fireroot piped up, excited. He'd always been easily excited, dragging his parents to wherever he wanted to go, a stark contrast to his two mellow parents.

Bilbo nodded.

"Really?" Silverthorn mused, surprised and slightly amused. Why was it that everyone he knew had either of those two reactions or a combination of both? Looking around, Bilbo didn't see the last one: disapproval. And why would they? Thranduil seemed to have assumed all the disapproval Greenwood had to offer. Okay, maybe he did have a little anger left inside of him. 

Bilbo mentally shook his head, feeling a headache coming on. Silverthorn would probably avoid answering if Bilbo asked why he was amused. Besides, he hadn't seen them in a while, and he wasn't going to use the allotted time he had with them talking about his upcoming trip and a certain stubborn king.

"Yes," Bilbo brusquely answered, "and I will be going there regardless to what Thranduil says. Now," he smiled warmly at them,"what have you all been up to?"

Wonderful friends that they were, they quickly divulged into telling him about life in the southern tip of Greenwood, where the Ents had decided to make their home. Live as an Ents was far from exciting, but Bilbo loved hearing about the trouble the animals under their care and protection got into. And right now, trivial disputes between squirrels and Robins over who owned a specific blackberry bush was what he needed to stray his mind away from the hill and its infuriating and secretive inhabitants.

It wasn't until some time later, and the moon was stuck high in the sky, that a small yawn escaped Bilbo to greet the Elf free woods. Thranduil must have been trying to appease him with the lack of pointy ears and watch full eyes to give him time with his present--presents--that were prematurely opened. Bilbo internally snorted: it was going to take more than that to placate him. An apology maybe, and Bilbo was going to enjoy that laborious display.

"I believe that is enough chatter for tonight," Silverthorn announced, slowly lowering Bilbo to the ground with an indulgent smile. Bilbo glared at him and was rewarded with a bellowing laugh. He was not adorable when sleepy, damn it. "Go rest, Little Mother," he urged when Bilbo was on the ground.

"But he hasn't--" Fireroot began to whine but abruptly stopped short at the glare his mother leveled him with.

"He's right," Bilbo agreed. "I haven't."

"Bilbo, you're tired," Helroot said then gave him a pointed look when he yawned again.

"But it's tradition," Bilbo protested. "And I need to get some of it out of my system anyways." Somewhere along the line, it had become a tradition among the small colonies of Ents that Bilbo would showcase his powers whenever met up with each other. Bilbo personally loved the display because of in awe the Ents were of what his powers could do, and they would always praise Yavanna afterwards. For without her, none of what he did would've been possible.

Bilbo turned pleading eyes onto them. Thranduil had stirred up his powers, especially the underlining part than he kept down at all times, and while he had tampered his powers down already, he desperately wanted to give them a chance to be free for a while since he hadn't the chance since meeting the Dwarrows.

Silverthorn relented, and Bilbo ginned his thanks before walking off into the woods. He kept walking, even after Silverthorn worriedly asked where he was going. "I need more room for what I'm going to do," Bilbo to see over his shoulder, hearing trees creak, which signaled they were following him. Not too long after, he came to a clearing wider than the one the Ents were camping at. He picked up a fallen acorn and took it with him to the center of the clearing out while the Ents seated themselves at the edge of the clearing.

Bilbo dropped the acorn on ground, stepped back a few feet, and closed his eyes, honing in on it. In his mind, he saw the acorn just as he would had his eyes been open, except it was glowing a soft green glow. He felt a same sensation rise up from the pit of his stomach as rapidly spread throughout his body and lingered on his back. Normally, he would picture the plant he wanted in his mind and use his powers to will it to life, but this was a display, and he wanted to draw it out as much as possible.

Bilbo visualize the acorn cracking than actually hearing, and a bright green, semi- opaque sapling rose up from it. Bilbo held a hand out, eye still tightly shut, and willed the sapling to slowly grow. In an instant, the sapling started to slowly grow in length with new limbs growing out of it sides with every feet's it grew. Brown started to steadily bleed into the green, consuming it as the bark and branches thicken. Leaf after leaf sprung up for the branches until the branches were difficult to see. From a multitude of leaves tiny yellow flowers started hanging down from small vines then eventually died away to leave small acorns.

Bilbo willed some of the acorn to fall, and the ones that were farther away from the tree, he forced them to grow, visualizing five other oak trees growing. Two he commanded to grow closer to the ground while the other three he allowed to grow to the high of their parent. Suddenly there was a clamor of different voices greeting him and thanking him. Bilbo mentally shushed them and eased the trees around them back to their peaceful slumber before focusing on growing some flowers as a finishing touch.

Taking a deep breath, Bilbo pictured blue periwinkle and called them to life, covering the entire field: a sign of unchanging friendship. He then called snowdrops to life: a sign of--

A piercing intake of breath cut right through Bilbo, and his eyes shot open. His head snapped to the side, and Bilbo felt his heart capsized on itself. Wide disbelieving emerald green eyes widened farther at him as his feet crunched the now dried and lifeless ground beneath his feet.

Paralyzing fear held his feet to firmly in place and stopped his lungs as realization flicker through her eyes. The Queen's eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to be a really long one, but I split it up. And the second part is already written, so expect it to be up tomorrow. Hopefully, if I don't get lazy.


	13. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo confronts Dimia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I didn't get lazy. Hope you like the chapter :)

It was quiet. Sweet Yavanna, it was stiflingly quiet as Bilbo stood there rooted in the ground as terror gnawed and clawed at his insides. His frantically beating heart was pumping blood through him, but he couldn't hear the rushing sound. It was like he was disconnected from his body, huddled deep within himself as his body wreaked havoc on itself, as his body awaited judgment from the wide eyed Dwarf in front of him.

Though his body was drowning in fear, his mind was clear of all but one thought on repeat: no, no, no!

His breathing became more painfully labored as emerald green eyes flickered from realization to clear understanding, a million different things adding up in her eyes. A million frowns now met with answers.

Dimia opened her mouth, and what sounded visibly startled Bilbo.

"Your Majesty!"

It wasn't her voice, yet Bilbo was dashing past the panicked Ents, dodging and disregarding their attempts to console him. Bilbo kept running and running, fueled by fear, pain, and loss. They had just started to get more comfortable and more open with each other, and Bilbo could see how this would play out, and that wasn't something he wanted to deal with right now. Spotting the darkening leaves and the way the plants and trees curled into themselves, Bilbo increased his pace, uncaring of how branches and thorns cut into his skin. Nothing compared to the pain of watching his world shrivel up before him.

Thankfully, the entrance to the halls came into view sooner than expected, and Bilbo rushed past the two worried guards toward Gandalf's room. Or at least that was the plan until he saw the Wizard coming towards him with a jovial smile that quickly died way to unbridled concern as Bilbo flung himself at him, drawing in long, harsh gust of air as his world started revolving around him.

"Bilbo?!" Gandalf frantically called out, but his voice was too far away, swallowed up by the shadows that seemed to sneak out from the walls until Bilbo only knew black.

~ ❦ ~

When Bilbo finally came around, it was to the sound of harsh whispers, damp dabs to his forehead, and soft fingers. Bilbo was very reluctant to open his eyes after hearing snippets of what Gandalf and Thranduil were arguing about. Actually, Bilbo wasn't sure he could, seeing as how he suddenly felt like millions of needles were sticking him in place: fear. And he was tempted to let them but lying here wasn't going to solve their current dilemma, if one would call premature exposure of his very existence a mere dilemma.

Bilbo gently squeezed the soft fingers and slowly opened his eyes. Oh, he was in his room, Bilbo noticed, taking in the white ceiling and the intricately carved oak tree in the center of it. It was carved there then filled in with melted emerald. It was also the only glamorous thing in his room. Bilbo was unsure how the Elves accomplished such a feat, and was too in awe at the time to ask. Maybe he could ask Thranduil about it now.

"He's awake," Arwen announced, voice rising above the other two while she returned the squeeze. So much for trying to distract himself with his surroundings, he groused.

With Arwen's help, Bilbo seated himself up against his headboard, only now noticing he was covered with a blanket, even though the air was warm around them, and a small fire was going. Two frantic and concerned faces were suddenly before him, and Bilbo lifted the blanket and an eyebrow.

"You were cold," Thranduil answered, assessing him with shrewd eyes.

"Yes, for all of five seconds," Arwen brusquely said. "They worry too much."

' _That was quite the understatement_ ', Bilbo thought as he pulled the blanket farther up. He wasn't cold at the moment, but he had always been fond of warm weather and of a warm atmosphere, which, he supposed, could be said for most, if not all, Hobbits. But the warmer it was the better it was for him. He guessed that was why they decided to go with the blanket in the first place.

"Could someone add more wood to the fire?" he asked. Thranduil quickly rushed to fulfill his request while Gandalf asked:

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm feel fine," Bilbo truthfully answered. He was physically fine, but emotionally, he was a bit drained and embarrassed, for fainting and for reacting the way he did. He was a Baggins of Bag End, not a scared fauntling, who ran away at the first sight of trouble. Not to mention how he must have worried them. Bilbo took a fortifying breath and asked, "How bad is it?"

Gandalf liked confused for a moment, bushy brows furrowed, before understanding shined in his blue eyes. "Quiet," he replied.

Now, it was Bilbo's turn to be confused. "What do you mean by 'quiet?'" Uproar was what Bilbo wanted to hear. He had witnessed how loud the Dwarrows could get about anything, especially when angered, and this--him hiding who and what he was--was cause for more than 'quiet'--it was cause for alarm, given what he represented. So why were they so quiet? Why were they not beating down his doors this very moment?

"I mean just that, Bilbo," Gandalf said, Thranduil returning to his side with bothered eyes breezing over Bilbo's body. "It's quiet. Nothing happened. The Dwarrows are their usual gruff selves, growling and grunting at whatever Elves cross their paths."

"I'm sure Dimia was pleased with that," Bilbo sardonically interjecting, having not been able to refrain himself.

"Oh, she would have been," Gandalf returned in full, "had we seen hide or tail of her since dinner."

"What." Bilbo edged his eyebrows together. Why hadn't she confronted them, especially Thranduil? His slip up was the perfect reprisal for insulting her family and for reprimanding them for keeping secrets. Then again, if Bilbo really examined what he knew about the queen, he could honestly say it wasn't in her nature to hold onto malice for very long. But he wasn't sure that was all true now. Things had drastically changed now. Truths and lies had been exposed. And the fact that she wasn't seen was indicative of how things had changed, seeing as she couldn't stand not knowing something for even the shortest of time.

"We haven't, but the guards have," Thranduil contradicted. "According to them, Her Majesty and Balin have confined themselves to her chamber since returning to the palace." So, it was Balin who was calling out to her. How had he not recognize his voice before? Never mind that now. Bilbo needed to fix things or at the very least attempted to fix things.

"Where do you think you're going?" Thranduil asked when Bilbo tossed his blanket aside. "You are not leaving this bed."

Bilbo hotly glare up at the king. Ordering him about was what got them into this mess in the first place. The Elf quickly realized his mistake and looked at him, shamefaced.

"I'm sorry, Bilbo," he sincerely apologize. "I should not have told you what to do now nor then, for that matter. I'm deeply and truly sorry."

"Yes, you shouldn't have," Bilbo replied, making him wince. "You of all people should know I don't like being ordered around--" Thranduil winced again and looked even more ashamed, "--but I see how repentant you are, and I forgive you. Just don't ever do it again."

"I won't," he promised, lips tugging slightly to the side. Bilbo smiled back at him.

"Good. Now both of you get out of way. I have a queen to track down."

"Bilbo, are--"

Bilbo cut the Wizard off. "Yes, I'm sure. I need to see her, and I need to know why she hadn't said anything. Besides, old friend, there will come a day when I will have to answer for my silence. It's simply that the time has come sooner than expected...or wanted." Specifically since he wasn't as prepared as he would have liked. The two stepped aside but not before he saw the flash of pride in their eyes.  

Bilbo hopped off his bed and walked to his bedroom door, yanking it open and causing the group of Elves on the other side to stand up straight, hands flying to the handles of their swords.

Wonderful, he almost caused a war between the two races.

"The swords weren't really necessary," Bilbo said.

"Bilbo!" Elladan exclaimed, coming forth to hug him but stopped when Bilbo held a hand up.

"I'm fine," he told his friends before they could ask. Glorfindel and Tauriel looked unconvinced. Elrohir was scanning him from head to toe. He was obviously spending too much time with Thranduil. Erestor was the only one looking suspiciously at him, clearly trying to figure out what Bilbo was planning. This was why the two of them got along so well: always focused on the important things.

"And I would love to stay and chat, but I have something important to attend to. And I don't want any of you following me." The protest rang out right away, but Bilbo paid it no mind and sauntered off in search of the queen.

Halfway toward Dimia's chamber, Bilbo regretted his decision when he felt his fear springing up, starting out as a tiny grain then shooting up and out with every step he took. But that wasn't the only emotion. Loss was lurking among the shoots. Regardless of what happened next, Bilbo was going to lose something. It was either their entire friendship or the easiness that existed between them.

When Bilbo got to the large wooden doors, he steeled himself. He had faced wolves, wargs, and Orcs. He had ventured off without his parents after Yavanna knew how long. He could certainly face one Dwarven queen. With a far steadier breath than he thought he was capable of mustering up, Bilbo knocked on the door and patiently waited to face his fate. When no one answered, Bilbo went to knock again when a subdued "Come in" penetrated the door before him.

Head held high and shoulders squared, Bilbo pushed the doors open then stopped. Seated in front of a large fireplace and facing each other were Dimia and Balin. Neither looked up when he entered the room, clearly lost in their own minds. It wasn't until the door slammed shut behind him that the two Dwarrows were pulled back out of their heads.

Balin shot of his seat, eyes wide, then he fell to his knees. And so did Bilbo's heart. Stubbornness held Bilbo up and kept him in place when Dimia stood up and came to stand beside the still kneeling Dwarf. Her face was as impassive as his was. Be it his years of training or his very soul itself, his composure and immovability, Bilbo didn't know, but he let not his distaste and sorrow show on his face. He didn't let anything show. His friend had never been this closed off from him. Secretive, yes, never this.

"Oh, Blessed One," Dimia reverently said. Bilbo's soul and training betrayed him. He flinched.

Once he pulled himself together and after some internally struggle, Bilbo settled for "Your Majesty."

Dimia heavily sighed. "This is going to get us nowhere. Balin, get up," she commanded before plopping down on her seat. Balin hurriedly stood up and went to stand beside her chair. It didn't take Bilbo long to realize he was to take the other seat. Once seated, the Queen spoke up. "So, you’re Yavanna's Helper." It wasn't a question, and how could it be after his earlier spectacle? So, Bilbo nodded. "And I take it the Elves knows."

Also not a question, and Bilbo expected as much from her. "By accident," Bilbo replied evenly, and resisted the urge to drum his fingers or to run. He suddenly felt claustrophobic. Balin was as silent as ever, scrutinizing him, which was far from new but now with an indulgently pleased and determined gleam in his eyes. Dimia simply raised a questioning eyebrow. "A few stumbled upon me using my powers, much like you did. Galadriel simply knew, like with most things, and told her people. The Ents were here the first time I came to these halls, and Thranduil found out from them.” Bilbo should have heeded those previous incidences as a warning, but it felt freeing to not have to hide this from her anymore, no matter how she took it.

Red blossomed on her gold painted cheeks. Balin smothered his snicker.

"And how did you get them to keep this a secret?" She asked with a swift glare to her advisor.

Bilbo colored with embarrassment. "I may have threatened them," he quietly said, ducking his head. A choking sound had him looking up in surprise. Dimia had a hand over his mouth, eyes bright, which had little to do with the fire going. They looked at each other for a few seconds before they burst out laughing. Very slowly they came back down, and with every step, Bilbo felt less closed in.

"Okay, we need to focus," she sternly said before dissolving back into laughter with Bilbo's rising higher than hers. When she did manage to recover some, she forced out above her bubbling laugh, "How is it that only seem to respond well to threats?"

"I have no idea," Bilbo answered, and they shared another laugh. And as surprising as it sounded, Bilbo could breathe much better than when he first got here.

"But really, Bilbo," she sobered, "Why haven't you told me before, or anyone else for that matter?"

"Because I got my powers before my time."

"Whatever do you mean?" she questioned, her and Balin exchanging worried and surprised glances. Balin was her husband's advisor, yet he certainly seemed more loyal to her. He wondered if there was a reason to that.

Pushing the thought away and with a deep sigh, Bilbo replied, "I got my powers long before I ever needed them. It was some weeks before my fifty-seventh birthday and harvest time in the Shire. My mother and I had a...disagreement, and I ran out the house and stayed out past Dinner when it happened. My back started burning, like something was clawing to the surface. It persisted then suddenly it stopped, and I found myself on my knees in the clearing I was hiding in, with every plant and tree dead around me. Then I passed out," Bilbo chuckled, how un-Baggins-like of him.

"When I woke up, I didn't remember a single thing that happened until I saw my back, and what was on it. The mark of a Helper. Yavanna's Mark. After I got over my shock--" and minor panic, he might add "--we, my parents, Gandalf, who was in Hobbiton at the time, and I thought it was for the best we kept me a secret. We didn't want to start a panic when we didn't know why my powers appeared when they did. We also decided it was best if I travel to Rivendell to learn about my powers and to train for when I would need them."

"You mean you have yet to use them to help?" She asked, alarmed.

"No, no, I have," Bilbo quickly assured her, causing her to relax and release the grip she had on her chair. "And quite recently, too," he added. "This past winter had been the harshest the Shire had ever seen. Snowfall as high as up to my waist, and I'm quite tall for a Hobbit. But the snow was the least of our worries, as was the sickness the Shire had just finished battling. The Brandywine River, the river separating the Shire from the wilds, froze over, and with it came the wolves. The attacked and killed many Hobbits." A soft gasp pierced the silent air around them. Bilbo soldiered on, voice thick and heart heavy. "We were forced to lock ourselves in our homes and survive on what we had. It was some blessing they only attacked at night, but that changed one day."

"They started attacking Hobbits during the day, the same day my mother was out. I was told to stay at home by my father whilst he went out to find her, but I was too tired and fed up of not being able to do anything because I was hiding my powers, so I ran to their aid...and I...I commanded the wolves to stop. And they did."

Two sets of wide eyes stared back at him in surprise and disbelief.

"I knew I could talk to animals," Bilbo went on to explaining, "but I had no idea I could command them until that very day. And as much as I disliked it at the time, I was glad for it because I saved my parents. I was finally able to help. I was gladder for the ability when the Orcs and wargs showed up a few seconds later."

A sharper gasp rang out this time.

"The wolves weren't the only things that came across the Brandywine," Bilbo almost spat. Would they ever be rid of those vile creatures? His bitterness may have been amplified by what he had lost because of them. "They killed a number of Hobbits along the way until they got to Hobbiton and where my parents and I were." And though Bilbo knew they Dwarrows were no stranger to warfare, gore and blood, he was still hesitant to admit what he did. He knew, however, he had to tell the two enraptured and expectant Dwarrows in front of him, be it he owed them this, at least, or he valued their friendship enough to trust them with this--trust them enough to know they wouldn't shun him. He didn't want to think which it was.

"And I did the only thing I could think of," he firmly stated, not breaking eye contact. He would never be ashamed of what he did for his people, never. "I commanded the wolves to attack the Orcs and the wargs to turn on their masters. I opened the ground to stop the Orcs from escaping and grew vines to hold the Orcs in place, so the wolves and wargs could finish them off. My task as a Helper was the save the Shire, and I did." Or he was hoping it was. He wasn't entirely sure it was.

Bilbo stopped, wanting to give them some time to mull over what he had said and to understand why Dimia's eyes were alighted with determination that far outshone what Balin's had possessed when Bilbo first sat down. That, however, did not deter him from noticing how pleased and proud she looked. Hope fluttered deep within him. He might not lose anything: their friendship, their respect--the ease that existed between them.

"What I don't understand is why you're here?" Balin finally spoke up, gesturing to all around him. "If the Orcs attacked last winter and you believe your task was to save the Shire, then why did you leave so soon? You arrived at Rivendell not long after spring started."

Bilbo was rather hoping they would have avoided asking that. Sighing yet again, he answered, "Hobbits hate violence and make it a point to stay away from things like war and bloodshed. It's why we don't have an army, or why Hobbits aren't seen taking part in any wars. They also make it a point to avoid those who take part in such things. Unbeknownst to me, when I was saving my parents and the Shire, half of Hobbiton was standing behind me, witnessing what I did with the Orcs. And I became one of those they avoid. I was fine with it because I knew they needed time to get used to what I am. It stopped being 'fine' when I saw that they were scared of me, that they were afraid of what I could do. So to make it easy on them and myself, I left."

"That is outrageous!" Dimia shouted, jumping out of her seat, livid. "You saved them, and that is how they repaid you?! You are Yavanna's Helper! You should be praised, not feared!"

"I don't want to be praised," Bilbo snapped along with Dimia's mouth. "I wasn't given my powers so that I may be praised. I was given them so that I may help the people of Middle Earth. And I am more than happy with that. I don't need my praises sung. I didn't leave the Shire because people were scared of me. I left because they were scared of my powers. My powers are a gift from the Green Lady, a piece of herself, and should never be feared. I left because I couldn't stand them being afraid of that part of me. It's why I came to see the Elves. Even though they treat me like some high lord," Bilbo couldn't hide slight distaste, "they have never being scared of my powers and have always encouraged my use of them."

Dimia fell back into her seat, a wide smile on her face, her pleasure, determination, hope, and pride encompassing her entire face. Bilbo began breathing that much easier and with a lighter spirit.

And he commented, "You're taking this all surprisingly well. Both of you." Balin was, perhaps, a little more private in his reaction, but it was there. And outrage and betrayal weren't among them.

"We always knew you were special, Bilbo," she replied, making it sound like he should have known this already. Bilbo blushed. "Now we know just how special."

"Okay," Bilbo acquiesced, "but it still doesn't explain why you're not upset by any of this. I have been lying to you since the moment we met."

"But with good reason," she was quick to assure him. "We hardly knew each other at the time. And you have been keeping this a secret for so long."

"Speaking of which," Balin interjected, "why are you still keeping this a secret? You have fulfilled the task you were sent to accomplish."

Bilbo didn't know what to make of his tight smile or her relieved one, but he answered nonetheless, "Well, it's precisely that. I have been keeping it a secret for so long that I don't know how to tell people. I was planning on having Elrond's make a formal announcement when I return from my trip to Erebor, seeing as he would know how to better handle something like this."

"We can do it for you," Dimia offered.

Bilbo smiled kindly at her. "That's very kind of you, but I rather make the announcement somewhere I am more comfortable at and have the full support of those living there, should anyone be angered by my decision to keep quiet for all those years."

She reluctantly nodded her head, as he knew she would, and asked instead, "Have either of the Elves or Gandalf figured out why your powers appeared when they did?"  

"No," he answered, or so he had been told. He could never be too sure when it concerned the Elves or Gandalf.

"What year was this?" she asked this time, and Bilbo could see a theory forming before him. And like with most things concerning Dimia, when he thought he handle on what she was thinking, it never was quite what he was thinking.

Though slightly surprised by the question and choosing not to decipher what the Queen was thinking, Bilbo told them the year and a little bit more about the time leading up to when he fully came into his powers, his affinity with growing things, and his ease with animals.

Instinctively, Balin and Dimia shared a look of wonder, and Bilbo knew with absolute certainty it wasn't about him this time.

"What?" Bilbo demanded.

"That's a long time for one to go without knowing what his powers are for," Balin responded. Bilbo could see years of having to come to rescue of a dignitary showing. And he was hard pressed to pursue the matter further, but he was here to ensure his secret was kept until the appropriate time and to save his friendship with them. He was positive he was on the way to securing both and would muck it up if he made them defensive.

"It is," Bilbo agreed, choosing to ignore the less tensed shoulders and his growing irritation, which was once covered in fear. Bilbo then asked the question that had been nagging him for some time now. "Why were outside in the first place?"

"Oh," she exclaimed, visibly excited by the change in subject, "I received word from the guards that Goräc had arrived with a message. My husband and our army had already left Moria and should be here in a week's time."

"That's wonderful news." Bilbo smiled widely at her. She had in no small amount made known her desire to have her family with her, and not off reclaiming their ancestral home.

"It is." Dimia smiled back.

Something then occurred to Bilbo. "It still doesn't explain why you were in the forest to being with?" The Elves would have let Goräc into the palace, and if he was uncomfortable inside the hill, he could have delivered the message at the entrance. There was no need for her to be that deep in the forest.

Balin snorted. Dimia mightily glared at him. "I wanted to take a stroll through the forest." Balin bellowed with laugher, which only grew when she smacked his arm.

"Our beloved Queen decided she wanted to take a stroll in the woods by herself," Balin chortled, "knowing fully well how abysmal her sense of direction is." Dimia continued to glare at Balin, though her cheeks were richly coated in red. "Outside of our mountain, her Majesty can't navigate to save her life. There was this one time--"

"Balin!" she shrieked. Bilbo and Balin laughed uproariously.

"Thorin is far worse," Balin told him and received a smack to the chest. Balin grinned at the irked queen then winked at Bilbo. "I'll tell you later."

"Are you trying to turn him against the royal family?" she inquired with any heat to her words.

"He has yet to meet Frerin, not to mention Dís," he snarked, causing Bilbo to giggle. He was quite looking forward to meeting them all and seeing how they all acted as a family. And while he loathed for them to do this, he needed to know:

"Does this mean you'll keep my secret?"

Their eyes snapped to his. "Yes, Bilbo, we'll keep your secret," Dimia assured him, Balin nodding along.

"And this doesn't change anything between us? We'll still be--"

"Oh, Bilbo," she cut him off, smiling softly. "We were never planning on stop being your friends. It's quite to honor to count you a friend, even more so now." Bilbo smiled wetly at her, heart swelling and overcome with relief. "You are our friend now and will continue to be so. And I certainly still plan on treating you the same-well, not the same since I have more to tease you with now."

Bilbo laughed. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me," she said. "I know you enough to know you simply want to be treated as you are: a simple Hobbit, who only wants to live his life and accomplish what he had been sent to do. And even if you weren't Yavanna's Blessed One, I would still want to be your friend, Bilbo, and still have the utmost respect for you."

Bilbo's throat was suddenly too tight, and his heart was getting too big for his chest. But he refused to cry or let his warring emotions get the better of him. He didn't know how he could have been so lucky to get the he friends that he had, both old and new. But he was thankful all the same.

"And I you-the both of you," he amended. Even if they weren't of such high class, Bilbo would haveTherl counted them friends.

"Good," Dimia remarked. "Now, let's talk of happier things." She leveled Bilbo with a serious look. "Have you ever used your powers on the Thranduil?"

Bilbo threw his head back a laughed. “When haven’t I?”

Their laughter could probably be heard from outside the place. And Bilbo knew they were going to be just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you guess what's going to happen next chapter? Go on, guess. lol


	14. Forest Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dwarrows finally arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone!
> 
> So I took a break during the holiday to relax and stuff. But I'm back now and will probably update more frequently. We'll see.

True to her words, the Dwarrows arrived in a week's time. Bilbo had never heard this much ruckus in Greenwood in all the time that he had spent here. And the Ents could get pretty loud when they wanted to be.

There were perhaps two hundred Dwarrows scattered about Greenwood, some healthy and hale while others had injuries ranging from a broken arm to missing limbs. But not one of them was without merriment. It astounded Bilbo to see such battered Dwarrows lively, and quite happily, chattering with other Dwarrows some distance away from them as if they were long lost friends who had been reunited after many years, and not comrades who had been travel together since Erebor.

It filled Bilbo with a sense of hope that he would have that with some of the Dwarrows of Erebor.

"I'm going into take a closer look," Bilbo announced, and Gandalf, who was standing very close to him, tensed up.

"Perhaps we should wait until they are settled first, Bilbo," the Wizard advised, which was speak for Bilbo wasn't going any farther than the edge of the bridge, where they were currently standing at.

"What is with the two of you?" Bilbo asked, despite not caring much for the answer. "Ever since words arrived that the Dwarrows were here, the two of you have been trying to distract me with everything imaginable. It's getting tedious. I have seen enough of your garden, Thranduil. And I am thrilled you're building a library for Elrond-don't even deny it," he firmly stated to the Elf on his right side, "but I can only look at empty shelves and piles of unsorted books for so long before wanting pull my hair out."

"You could--"

"Any other day I would be happy to help you sort them out, but not today. Now, I'm going, and that's final." Bilbo stomped off before they could come up some ridiculous reason as to why he should return inside and preferably to his room. He didn't bother rolling his eyes when he heard a multitude of footsteps following him. They were taking overprotective way too far. The Dwarrows weren't a threat to him. Bilbo had learned enough to know how to properly show respect to Dwarf: compliment their weapons and their hair. And if he really wanted to impress them--show no fear.

Bilbo could hardly feel fear when he was this thrilled, quickening his pace to get closer to the bustling Dwarrows. He was finally getting to observe some Dwarrows doing something other than guarding and tolerating his existence. Thanks to his swiftness, Bilbo was able to duck under the arm of a Dwarf before they collided, getting a good whiff of the stoutly Dwarf's stench. And boys did it almost floor Bilbo. So much so they he had almost run into another Dwarf. It was a good thing the two turn when they did like two dancer, facing each other as they did, or it would have been a disaster. The problem with their current situation was they weren't dancing, and the grizzly Dwarf before him looked seconds away from taking Bilbo's head off.

When Bilbo found his footing, he quickly rushed off, the Dwarf's guttural language trailing behind him. Bilbo's head was swishing for side to side, so much so that he almost collided with light-blue haired Dwarf, who had an axe, hammer, and spear strapped to his back. For what Bilbo had observed from afar, a single Dwarf had at least three different type of weapons and at least their weigh in armor. A single Dwarf most likely had more armor and weaponry than the whole of the Shire combined.

Bilbo sent the scowling Dwarf an apologetic smile. The young--or so he was assuming--Dwarf derisively huffed at Bilbo then stomped off with his many loaves of bread. Bilbo would be upset, too, if someone prevented him from eating. With that thought, he was off again, ducking under arms, stopping short in front of countless Dwarrows, and observing all he could.

Bilbo scurried over to another Dwarf, who was hunched over an injured Dwarf, wrapping what appeared to be a broken arm. Bilbo leaned over the healers shoulder to get a better look, and the impaired Dwarf flinched back at Bilbo's sudden arrival, jolting his arm and hissing out in pain. The healer's head spun around then recoiled.

"Sorry," Bilbo said, forgetting how quiet Hobbits could be when they wanted to be. "Sorry," he said again to the two glaring Dwarrows and then took off, making a mental note to avoid the injured Dwarrows and to loudly announce his presence.

His little incident had garnered him more attention, though. Some were looking at him with interest, some with shock, and some with contempt. Their looks didn't deter Bilbo, who continued to navigate through the sea of Dwarrows, bypassing an elderly Dwarf, who was lugging a wheelbarrow filled to the brim with damaged and disfigured weapons. Bilbo could only stare in awe before his attention was seized by another Dwarf who walked passed him carrying a large deer on his shoulder, blood dripping down his back.

His eyes continued to follow the trail of blood getting farther away until he stopped short in front of two Dwarrows, who were arguing in Khuzdûl, snapping Bilbo's attention to straight ahead of him. The brunette and the blonde stopped arguing to look askance at him. Bilbo smiled awkwardly at them then scampered off to the side, and they resumed their shouting. Next, he caught the eye of another older Dwarf, who was propped up against a tree, carving something, a toy perhaps. The Dwarf smiled softly, and Bilbo grinned widely back at him.

Bilbo's smile faltered a little when he heard a familiar laugh. Looking off to the left of the older Dwarf, Bilbo spotted Nori clamorously laughing with a jovially looking Dwarf with a funny hat. The hat almost looked like the arched wingspan of a crow that was about to fight off anyone who dared to come near to his kill. It was rather ridiculous, but Bilbo was beginning to think it described the Dwarf with the horseshoe-like beard that was curved at both ends. Surprisingly, what caught Bilbo's attention was the openness Nori had with this Dwarf and the faint flush to his cheeks. Either the Dwarf had no idea what he was doing to Nori, or he very well did and was milking it. But it definitely warranted noting, and Bilbo would surely ask Dimia about it later.

Well, that was the plan had Bilbo not collided with a mountain and fell flat on his arse. Bilbo refused to classify it as anything but a mountain. Bilbo had fell out of a tree before, and that was nothing compared to the pain shooting up his left side. Bilbo opened the eyes he hadn't realized he closed to look up at the cause stinging pain assailing his body. And Bilbo would forever be cursing said pain as the reason why his mouth went dry when he glanced up, and why he felt warmer than he had ever felt in his entire life, as if someone lit a furnace inside of him. His powers were lashing at his insides, demanding to be let free, but Bilbo forced them down as far as he could.  

The Dwarf before Bilbo was perhaps the most beautiful being had ever seen, and he had been around Elves for some time. The Dwarf was around Bilbo's height, if not a few inches taller. He was as burly as the rest of his kind, but wearing only a dark-blue tunic and black trousers that accentuated every part of the Dwarf, and Bilbo meant **every** part. Like the rest of his race, this Dwarf had a thick mane of black hair that was brushed back with only two braids flanking either side of the Dwarf's almond shaped face and two shimmering silver beads attached to the ends of the braids.

The Dwarf's face was set in a scowl, and somehow Bilbo knew the expression had long since made the Dwarf's face its home. His beard and mustache were cut short, which Bilbo found odd—among a list of other things. But what really arrested Bilbo's attention, and it took quite a lot to do that, was the Dwarf's eyes. They were a deep sky-blue color that could burn a hole through Bilbo, similarly to the large beak-like nose of his that could drill a hole through Bilbo.

Bilbo was burning up, and it wasn't from embarrassment. Dear Yavanna, he shouldn't be thinking some of the things he was thinking, considering the Dwarf before him looked ready to blow a gasket.

"You stupid halfling," the Dwarf snarled, and a gust of warm air washed over Bilbo. Bilbo had to bite down hard on his lip to keep from moaning. It felt like he was digging his toes into freshly overturned earth. What in Yavanna's name was happening to him?  

Bilbo pulled his parted legs together so he could try to stand up. The Dwarf's eye followed the movement, and Bilbo watched as the Dwarf's ire exponentially grew. Bilbo's own anger flared up. What was this Dwarf expecting? That Bilbo stayed on the ground? So that this he could further be looked down upon with scorn? Well, Bilbo was having none of that. Who did this Dwarf think he was?

Bilbo quickly scrambled to his feet.

"Listen here, Dwarf," Bilbo spat, standing just as imposing as the Dwarf, who turned out to be about two inches taller than Bilbo, "I'm a Hobbit and half of nothing. And I would advise you to remember that."

The dwarf's expression turned murderous, well more murderous. "Do you have any idea who you are talking to?" he growled, eyes raking over Bilbo's form, and Bilbo's knees buckled, turning his candlelight of anger into a full blown forest fire.

"No," Bilbo tersely answered, fists clenched, "and I could care less." He was finding it extremely difficult to keep himself calm and grounded. "I understand that I ran into to you," Bilbo uncaringly cutting the Dwarf off when he opened his mouth. "And I would apologize for it, but you're making it seem like I spat on that twig you call a sword." Bilbo jerked his head in the direction of the sword strapped to the Dwarf's waist, and a nicely formed waist--

Bilbo mentally shook himself. He needed to focus, but on what? The Dwarf wasn't exactly taking things too far, but Bilbo could hardly see reason while juggling his anger, his desire to get his hands on this Dwarf, his persistent powers, and his body, which seemed to suck up at heat surrounding them. That in itself was another thing. Why was it so humid?!

The Dwarf's growl drowned out the rest, and it was only then Bilbo noticed that the Dwarrows had stopped what they were doing and staring at them. It was then he also noticed what a wide berth, many retreating to the safety of the trees surrounding them.

"Mind your tongue, halfling, if you wish to keep it." His expression was thunderous, yet his clouded eyes kept flickering from Bilbo's face then down his body. For Eru's sake, Bilbo understood he wasn't as built as Dwarrows were, and he wasn't as ample as other Hobbits, but that in no way meant he couldn't take the Dwarf before him, and he wouldn't even need to use his powers to do so.

"I don't know if it's the rocks you have between those ears of yours--" several Dwarrows drew in sharp breathes, "--but we have already discussed this. **I'm half of nothing**."

The Dwarf's eyes once again met Bilbo's, and he sneered. "And maybe it's the dirt between yours, but I have told you to mind your tongue."

"I don't take orders from anyone, least of all from someone as arrogant as you." And as handsome and alluring as the Dwarf was, Bilbo refused to be looked down upon, especially from a well to do Dwarf--Bilbo could tell from the way he carried himself: shoulders squared, the rich embroidery, and the air of importance that hung around him. The issue was this Dwarf thought himself a little too important.

The Dwarf snarled, and Bilbo recoiled back, but it wasn't because of the sound. No, it was because the Dwarf's left arm burst into flames, a vibrant blue, very much like his eyes. The heated air was now stifling. Bilbo watched in utter shock as the flames burned on, yet nothing burned, not the tunic nor flesh. Bilbo eyes trailed down the Dwarf's arm until his eyes comically widened when he got to the Dwarf's hand. There, glistening on the back of his hand, were a series of curved black spikes, too reflective to be tattoos.

No, it couldn't be. Oh Eru, it couldn’t be.  

Bilbo looked up, and the Dwarf was wearing an immensely satisfied and proud smirk on his face. He was sadly mistaken if he thought **that** would make Bilbo bow to him. Bilbo stepped forth and vehemently glared at the infuriating Dwarf and was greatly satisfied when the smirk fell. The Dwarf's face darkened before he promptly burst into flames. Bilbo yelped and stumbled back, an arm rising up to shield his eyes and himself from harm. But none came. The stifling air was gone as a multitude of ringing gasp assaulted Bilbo from all directions.

Timidly, Bilbo lowered his arm, and his gasp far outshone that of the others. Bilbo was crouching in a dome made entirely of tree roots--tree roots so intertwined that it blocked out everything: the forest, the Dwarrows, the sunlight. Oh dear, what had he done?

At his command, the roots slowly untangled themselves and returned to the earth. As much as he loath to do this, Bilbo lifted his eyes and met two wide open skies before him. Hobbit and Dwarf stood there, looking at each other, one still covered in blue flames, neither saying a word, both stewing in their shock. Even Bilbo's powers were still. Though, he still had an insatiable urge to get closer to the Dwarf.

Before Bilbo could do something stupid, heavy footstep were heard coming for behind the burning Dwarf. Bilbo's eyes snapped to the side.

"Thorin!" a familiar voice called. Bilbo's disbelieving eyes found the Dwarf's again to find the Dwarf’s stunned gaze still on him.

Suddenly, Dimia was besides the Dwarf--no, Thorin his brain supplied, seeming to be the only think it could do. She opened her mouth, but Bilbo beat her to it.

"I can't believe you were trying to convince me to marry him!" Bilbo shouted. 

He then spun around and ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, Blue hair is a Dwarf thing. Who knew?
> 
> I was actually planing on waiting later for the big reveal, but my brain had other thoughts. 
> 
> You didn't think Bilbo was totally clueless, did you? 
> 
> Hope you like it, though.


	15. Regrowth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo deals with his powers and his three friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter would have been finished a long time ago, but I got distracted by other Hobbit fan fiction. Sorry, not sorry.

"At first, I didn't understand why you ran, but now I'm glad you did," Dimia's soft voice drifted over to Bilbo.

Bilbo kept his eyes shut and basked in the calm coursing through his body for a moment before answering. "I have spent years building up walls to better help conceal my powers, and all it took was one dwarf--" Bilbo opened his eyes and gestured to all around, "--for all of this to happen."

Bilbo was lucky he got far enough away from the Dwarrows before his powers finally lashed out, and lashed out they did. A once heavily dense section of the forest was left in ruins. Trees were uprooted, some split right down the middle, before the life was sucked right out of them, leaving frail gray and blackened trees, where the simplest of breeze could topple these once mighty beings. Bilbo knew this destruction extended far beyond his line of sight. What was contained in the clearing he made himself was the havoc his powers wreaked upon the land around him. It was as if the Aulë himself had descended and took a hammer to the earth, fracturing it and causing countless spikes to spring up.

The only thing standing was the apple tree Bilbo was currently sitting on, just high enough that he could observe all that he had done.

Bilbo was filled with fright and awe at what he could do, and he did all of that with a few wall still intact. He was hesitant to find out what he could do if he allowed himself to utilize that part of his soul to its full extent, always too afraid to fully explore his powers. And as much as he loathed to admit it, he had to thank the young prince for making it possible for him to see this facet of his powers, and for the relief he was feeling now: he now had an idea of what his limits were and had an opportunity to let out all the steam that had been building up faster than he could let out. None of this, however, would ever be said to that arrogant son of hers, though--anything to keep that head of his from getting any bigger than it already was.

"If it makes you feel any better," Dimia said, snapping Bilbo out of his head before he could dwell more on that Dwarf--Bilbo had made it a point to avoid thinking about him--, "you're not the only one who got a little... Destructive."

It didn't make him feel better, but he had to ask. "What did he do?"

"Let's just say they are far less rocks in Greenwood and more dust." Dimia seemed to hesitate for a second, eye scanning the wreckage before her before continuing on. "And some charred trees."

Bilbo gritted his teeth, and the ground shook beneath him. Dimia was so startled she almost lost her footing. Bilbo quickly calmed himself down, filling up now with guilty as he sent her a half-apologetic, half-sheepish smile. She kindly smiled back. Though, her eyes were still filtering about. It was then Bilbo understood what she was looking for: a way to get to him.

Bilbo stretched one arm out, closing his eyes yet again and expanding his sense of awareness to all around him. With a better handle on his powers, Bilbo was able to effortless force the spikes back into the ground while simultaneously breathing life into the trees around him. (He would fix the trees farther away later and call the animals back.) He could feel as the ground slotted back into place and as the crevices slowly filled back up. The broken trees knitted themselves back together and dug their roots back into the earth and righted themselves. With a deeply satisfied huff, Bilbo leaned back against the tree trunk, lowered his arm, and opened his eye.

Bilbo uncontrollably started giggling.

"This isn't funny, Bilbo," Dimia groused from somewhere behind the sea of trees blocking her path.

"Sorry," Bilbo shouted, fighting back his laughter, as a grumpy queen stepped up from behind a tree with leaves and twigs stuck in her hair. Bilbo didn't fight back his laugh this time as one of the branches wrapped around his torso and slowly lowered him to the soft ground below. Dimia vigorously shook her head, dislodging the stray travelers in her hair before making her way over to him, mildly glaring all the way.

"You have always loved seeing me use my powers," he teased. She was full on glaring at him now. Bilbo grinned back. "Sorry about your hair," he said, plucking the last stubborn leaf and watching as it crumbled before his eyes. Bilbo looked up to find Dimia starting at him oddly. "What?"

She glanced down at the tiny bit of stem between his fingers. "Never seen you act so flippantly with your powers before is all."

"There's no point in hiding it now," Bilbo replied, letting the piece of stem fall. "So, how bad is it?" Bilbo asked, overcome with a sudden sense of Déjà vu.

Bilbo could see the struggle play out on her face: to tell him or simply lie to him. Eventually she sighed and answered, "They're overreacting. All of them. My husband and his father are claiming the Elves were willfully withholding information. And the Elves are citing Moria as a counterargument. Gandalf is far too amused by it all." They shared an eye roll. Blasted Wizard. "And I have a headache the size of Erebor and needed to get out of there. I'll return once they finished measuring whose cock is bigger."

Another thing Bilbo learned about the Queen was she could be just as vulgar as the rest of her race. Her reasoning was she wasn't always the queen of the Dwarrows: she was the daughter of tavern owner before that.

What had Bilbo chuckling, though, was how put out she was--the face of a woman with a rambunctious family.

Bilbo sobered up pretty quickly, though. "Aren't you worried... they'll turn on each other?" Because Bilbo was worrying about that right now. The relationship between the two races wasn't the most cordial. And Bilbo would hate to be the one to send all their progress back. He was supposed to help not destroy.

Dimia's face hardened. "You, my son, and the other Blessed Ones were not sent here to rid Middle Earth of evil to have two stubborn races disrupt the peace we have because they can't be on the same room without complaining about the slightest things." She firmly held Bilbo's gaze. "And you don't have anything to worry. It is your secret, and you are allowed to tell whomever you choose. And you also had a good reason for your silence. My Dwarrows will understand that once they are done yelling."

"All right," Bilbo breathed out, relief washing over him.

"Good," she said, face smoothing out into a smile. "And I promise you we'll be more than happy to keep your secret."

"No," Bilbo rushed out, making her frown, then more calmly, "I think it’s time Middle Earth know of my existence."

"Are you sure?"

Bilbo nodded. He had a lot of time to think things through once his powers has settled. He had been sent to Middle Earth to help, and he wouldn't be able to do that if he was hiding. Yavanna knew how long he would be with the Dwarrows in Erebor, and he could good during that time. Besides, it was so wonderful to be able to let his powers free, and not have to constantly worry about concealing them behind walls of his own making.

"I don't want to hide anymore."

"I can help you with the announcement."

Bilbo shook his head. "It will take time and energy to organize a formal announcement. We can cut the time and energy in half by letting news spread like most news: word of mouth. I'll let the Elves know they no longer need to keep this a secret, and the Dwarrows that they can tell whomever they want. Unless they--"

"They haven't," Dimia cut him off. "I made sure they knew what happened today was not to be talked about."

"Well," Bilbo remarked, "you can tell them they can talk about it to their hearts content." And before Dimia could offer any other help, Bilbo added, "I'll deal with any dignitaries who wishes to speak to me. It will be nice to finally put all that court training Gandalf and the others put me through to good use." 

"Court training?" She inquired with raised eyebrows.

"Court training," Bilbo affirmed then shrugged. "It was Gandalf's idea actually. As much as I don't want to be held in such high regards, I will be regardless, and many—kings and commoners alike—would want my opinion on different matters. Gandalf thought it wise that I am well equipped to deal with the politics and such that comes into play when helping different kingdoms."

"Gandalf's a wise man when he's not being secretive," Dimia commented, pensively eyeing him.

"Couldn't agree more," Bilbo responded, leerily eyeing her back. "Moreover, I also want to deal with this on my own. I realize now that it was thoughtless of me to expect Elrond to deal with the fallout of my decision to stay a secret."

"He would be happy to," Dimia assured him. And Bilbo knew that, but this wasn't Elrond mess to deal with.

"Elrond is my friend, not to mention a king with problems of his own--he does not need to take on mine as well. I will deal those who are upset with my decision," Bilbo passionately finished. He had always worried about what would happen when he revealed himself when he didn't need to. Gandalf and the other made sure he would be prepared to deal with whatever came his way. Even if he didn't have that much faith in himself, he should have had faith in them.

"Okay," she relented. "Now on to another matter: you knew?!" she accused, lightly hitting him on the shoulder. It hurt more than it should. Dwarrows and their ridiculous strength. "How long?" she demanded when Bilbo simply grinned at her.

"Since we entered Greenwood," he answered to save himself from any more assault.

"How?"

"A little birdy told me."

She narrowed her emerald eyes. “It was one of the Elves, wasn't it?"

"A robin actually." She just stared at Bilbo as his laughter bubbled up. Bilbo squeaked and dodged her attempt to hit him again by running off to the side.

"Bilbo Baggins, get back here this instant!" Bilbo shamelessly grinned. "Bilbo."

"It was by accident," Bilbo told her as he approached her. "Birds are terrible gossips, and he--the robin--thought I knew about your little plan and offered his best wishes." Bilbo's face was hurting from grinning at how put out she was now.

Dimia finally sighed and asked, "Why didn't you say anything?"

"At first, it was to see how long you would keep the charade up, then it was because of you."

"Me?!" she squeaked.

"I was uncertain because you were!" He didn't meant to be accusing, but there it was. "Whenever you would bring him up, you would be so determined to get me to like him then the next second you were so uncertain. It was as if one minute you were already planning our wedding then the next you were ripping the canopy apart with your own bare hands. And I didn't understand why until today. All those times, you were worried I wouldn't be able to handle marriage with Aulë's Helper. And with good reason."

"He's not that ba--"

"He has a short temper," Bilbo cut her off.

"So do a lot of people," she interrupted him back, a tad defensively.

"He gets destructive when angered."

"He lost control today, just like you." She smirked when he hesitated. She was right in that regard, but Bilbo wasn't about to back down. Marriage between the two of them would be just as destructive.

"It’s not going to work out. He controls fire, I control plants. He consumes, I grow."

"He's more than that," she argued, angrier this time. "He also controls the rocks and metals; he builds and creates." Her entire face was bright red at this point, but Bilbo plowed forward.

"Yes," Bilbo said, more sardonically than he intended, but he had a very trying morning. "He builds and creates from lifeless rocks and metals while I help the earth which is teeming with life grow. We're polar opposites."

"Yet one would say that's makes you two all the more suited for one each: you balance each other."

"Not now, Gandalf," Bilbo said through gritted teeth. Dimia, who finally noticed the two presences behind them, smirked yet again. Bilbo felt more than heard them approach.

"I mean," Gandalf continued, "Yavanna and Aulë have made it work for them for eons."

Bilbo froze up before spun around to face the Wizard and Elvenking. "Is that why I feel like this?!" Bilbo frantically demanded. Regardless of all his self-reflection, it had never crossed his mind that the reason he had these thoughts and feelings was because they weren't his own. It would certainly explain why they were so sudden and with such intensity. Maybe if Bilbo hadn't avoided thinking about them, he would be feeling less like his stomach was ripping itself to shreds, and his heart banging on his chest.

The damn Wizard had the gall to roll his eyes at Bilbo, like he was being particularly dense. "You have the Green Lady's powers, Bilbo. But you are not her."

"Then how do you explain what I'm feeling?" Bilbo forcefully asked, finding it easier to breath despite his confusion.

Gandalf's lips curled up. "What exactly are you feeling, Bilbo?" Bilbo tightly pressed his lips together and glared as Thranduil teasingly grinned and Dimia choked up.

"You like him, don't you?" Dimia questioned, bewildered.

"I do not," Bilbo snapped because he didn't. They dwarf infuriated him more than anything. "Why are the two of you even here?"

"It's time for luncheon," Thranduil said, clearly fighting back a laugh. Bilbo shouldn't have said anything. They were going to mercilessly tease him about this from now on. Wonderful.

"Good." He was starving now that he thought it. "That will give you enough time to explain to me why the two of you never told my about Dimia's son. I can understand why she didn't tell me, just not why the two of you didn't tell me."

"I wish to know as well," Dimia said. “I always found it odd that you didn’t know about him either. I assumed it was because you Hobbits tend to not care very much about the outside world, but that couldn't be why since you never truly cut yourself off from it. You would have at least heard about him.”  

Thinking about it now, Bilbo could hazard a guess as to who made it possible that word never got to the Shire, and who helped him.

"Well, we--" Gandalf started to say but stopped when Thranduil turned to face him with a cocked eyebrow. "I," Gandalf amended, "decided that since you had no desire to announce your existence then it was best you weren't aware of Thorin's existence until you were ready."

"That isn't a very good excuse," Bilbo pointed out.

"It was if you were worried that you might want to meet him before you were ready," Gandalf retorted. Well…he couldn't say that wasn't a possibility. There were countless times when he wished there was someone who could empathize with him when his powers proved to be too overwhelming.

"But you could have still told me," Bilbo said. "And even if I did want to meet him, I'm sure you or any of the others would have been able to convince me otherwise."

"Possibly," Gandalf mused, "but sometimes you forget how stubborn you can be." Gandalf pointedly bore down at him.

"We should get going," was Bilbo's response. His three friends snorted. Petulantly, Bilbo pushed past the two blocking his path. Dimia was soon shoulder to shoulder with him. "I'm sorry if I made it seemed like I was insulting your son. I wasn't trying to."

"I knew you weren't," she replied, kindly smiling at him. "He didn't exactly show you his best side."

Bilbo humorlessly laughed. Neither of them did. They fell into a comfortable silence while the scenery around them shifted from green to black and gray then back to green. In no time, the sounds of her Dwarrows were heard around them. Bilbo made sure to avoid the ones camping out in the forest. He would deal with the Dwarrows after luncheon.

"I take it back," Bilbo said when they were by the bridge again. "I did mean to insult him. You said a few tree!" This was most certainly not a few trees. A large portion of the forest and thenground next to the river were charred. Many trees and shrubs had their leaves burnt off. And they were all crying out for his help.

"I said some," Dimia corrected him. Bilbo hotly glared at her.

He stepped forth and extended his arms out. Slowly the black faded away as the plants before him started shedding their foliage and outer barks. Grass and tiny flowers sprung up when all the damaged leaves had decayed. New leaves and barks grew on the trees and shrubs. And Bilbo further pushed his powers out and below to insure he didn't miss a speck of damage caused by that arrogant Dwarf. When he was satisfied, Bilbo lowered his arms but not before whipping away the thin layer of sweat from his forehead.

"Now that's impressive," a voice said to his left. Bilbo looked to the side to see a group of Dwarrows gathered on the bridge. At the helm was the one Dwarf who was making it his mission to push Bilbo off the edge. Wonderful, just wonderful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized that I never really thanked you guys for all your wonderful comments and kudos, so thank you so very much. :)


	16. It's the Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin have a civil second meeting. Gandalf shares some information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter would have been up sooner, but I have been procrastinating. Sorry :)

"Thank you," Bilbo said to the awe filled Dwarf with a sharp nose, a thick mane of familiar blond hair, and bright blue eyes. Bilbo was positive the Dwarf was Frerin. And any lingering suspicion was gone when the Dwarf tried to charm him with a too wide smile. It was too bad Dimia wasn't trying to marry him off to some Dwarrowdam. That would have been interesting to watch. No doubt Frerin would have been very flamboyant in his courting or utterly disastrous, but nonetheless: interesting.  

Before Bilbo could dwell more on the topic, his attention was arrested by two Dwarrows coming to flank Aulë's Blessed One. Two pair of familiar blues eyes--one lighter than the other--acutely assessed him, and Bilbo just remembered his manners.

"Bilbo Baggins, Son of Bungo Baggins and Yavanna's Blessed One, at your service, Your Majesties." Bilbo gave them deep bow.

Stepping forward, the eldest of the six Dwarrows before him remarked, "So, it’s true then. Never in my lifetime had I expected to meet another Helper." He then laughed. "Well, I shouldn't be as surprised as I am. I thought that, too, until my grandson came into his powers. Thrór, Son of Dáin, at your service." Thrór bowed deeply back to Bilbo.

"There's no need to bow to me," Bilbo uncomfortably said, partly because of his dislike of people bowing to him and partly because he was starting to heat up again. Couldn't that blasted Dwarf control his powers of one minute?

Thrór frowned as Dimia moved to stand beside Bilbo again.

"Bilbo doesn't like people bowing to him," she informed them, raising her voice so all who Bilbo could sense could hear. "He may be Yavanna's Helper, but he is a Hobbit, and they have no royalty or those who hold titles such as us and are not used to what all that entitles. However, you will show him the respect deserving of one of the Blessed Ones, but to make him more comfortable, there will be no bowing."

A salt-and-pepper haired Dwarf stepped forward. "Is that understood?" he firmly casked, steely eyes surveying those behind Bilbo.

Numerous _aye_ 's erupted from behind, and Bilbo smiled his thanks to the two of them. Dimia then looped her arm with his and moved them closer to the rest. Bilbo could feel the excitement buzzing through her. Bilbo almost snorted when her plan was sabotaged.

"Thráin, Son of Thrór, at your service," her husband said, followed by "What?" when Dimia glared. Bilbo hid his smile. There went her plan of introducing them herself.

While the two of them were having their little domestic, Frerin bypassed his grandfather to get to the front. "Frerin, Son of Thráin, at your service." Bilbo smiled back this time when the blond smiled.

Next a heavily tattooed Dwarf with a Mohawk stepped in front of Frerin, much to the other displeasure. "Dwalin, Son of Fundin, at your service." Bilbo smiled once again, even though he knew not to expect one back from this Dwarf. Well, at least not yet, if Balin was to be believed.

"It's nice to finally meet all of you," Bilbo earnestly said. "Balin and Dimia have told me so much about you. And Glóin, when he's not too busy training the others or talking about his wife and son." The rest either smiled indulgently at that or chuckled. "And also Nori, when he's thinks the three of them are singing your praises too much."

Balin, who had moved from the back to stand next to King Thráin, and Dimia started frantically looking for the Dwarf question. Bilbo was almost tempted to give away his hiding spot but settled for reassuring the two worried Dwarrows.

"There's nothing to worry about. They were just some stories about the silly things your family had been up to. Nothing incriminating.” Neither seemed convinced, and Bilbo sighed in defeat, ignoring the hot gaze that was boring into him. If the stubborn Dwarf wasn't going to introduce himself then Bilbo wasn't going to force him to. He would happily ignore him until the Dwarf got over his pride. And he would stay rooted where he was, no matter how much his body was urging him forward, pulling him towards the prince. Bilbo really needed to figure what was wrong with himself before he did something, like throw himself at the Dwarf. How mortifying would that be?

The king opened his mouth then snapped it shut, scowling when Thranduil came up from behind to rest his hands on Bilbo's shoulders. "I know you are all eager to get to know Bilbo," Thranduil politely said, too polite for Bilbo’s taste, "but it's time for luncheon. Come along, Bilbo."

None of the Dwarrows moved, only joining their king in his scowling. They really needed to deal with their issues and soon because Dimia looked so close to clobbering the lot of them.

"Yes, luncheon" Dimia agreed, hotly glaring her family into submission. Their scowls immediately vanished leaving their faces blank. Using her free hand, Dimia pushed her fair haired son to the side, and the others quickly moved out of the way. It was going to be lovely observing her interact with her family, Bilbo mused and let himself be dragged along. However, they didn't get far. The one who heated the air around them and caused the lingering scent of burnt wood to hover around them blocked their path.

Bilbo finally looked at the one who simultaneously warmed and pulled his insides. Bilbo raised an eyebrow and waited while Dimia looked ready to throttle her son. The prince just continued to stare at Bilbo, face grim. Bilbo cursed the traitorous part of him that reveled at the attention, but he was determined to be unaffected as much as he was determined to not start another argument. They were two Helpers, and they should not be fighting over such petty things.  

After what seemed like hours of assessment, the Dwarf finally spoke, deep and powerful. "Thorin Oakenshield, Son of Thráin, Son of Thrór, Mahal's Blessed One, at your service." Bilbo shivered, Thorin's eyebrows jumped up, and Gandalf snorted.

One day Bilbo would get a hand on that staff of his, and something would break: be it bones or the staff itself, he didn't know, but something would.

Bilbo gathered himself together and held his head high. "It's an honor to meet you," Bilbo respectfully said, and due to his proper manners and his resolve, he added, "And my apologies for bumping into you earlier and for the things I said. They were uncalled for, no matter how angry I was."

Thorin's eyebrows descended, but his expression remained the same. No surprise there. "My apologies as well, Master Baggins--"

"Bilbo," he interrupted. "My name is Bilbo, not 'Master Baggins' or anything along those lines."

"Of course," he said, gritting his teeth a little. "My behavior was uncalled for and appalling, especially for a prince, and I offer you my sincerest apologies."

"Apologize accepted," Bilbo said, smiling, then foolishly held out his hand. He realized how foolish it was when the Dwarf's larger hand enclosed his. Heat shot through his arm then down to the pit of his stomach before fanning out to all parts of his body. Forget digging his toes into freshly overturned earth, Bilbo felt like he was covered in it from head to toe. And it felt divine. Amidst his euphoria, Bilbo didn't notice he was moving forward until something held him back, two somethings actually: hands on his shoulders and an arm around his own. Bilbo swiftly snapped out of the state of bliss he was in in time to see Thorin recoiled back.

Once again they stood there staring at each other in shock, both clutching the hand they used for their handshake to their chests.

"Don't start panicking," Gandalf advised the second Bilbo started panicking. The Wizard suddenly appeared to Bilbo's right, looking so calm and unbothered by what was happening. Bilbo glowered at him. "It's merely Aulë and Yavanna's graces reacting to each other," he explained. At their confused faces, he went on. "Their graces have always been around each other. It wasn't until it was given to the two of you that they were ever separated. They're simply trying to get re-accustomed to each other. They'll settle down soon enough."

"This hasn't happened with the others," Bilbo reminded him, lowering his arm but believing Gandalf a little. He didn't feel as warm as before or as strong of a pull to Thorin.

"It has," the Wizard contradicted. "They only had less grace that the two of you to notice their grace was getting reacquainted."

"We have more grace?" Thorin asked, and Bilbo didn't shiver this time. Though, Thorin's voice did rumble him from the inside.

Gandalf nodded. Could that have been how he was able to control the wargs and wolves? “It was a precaution,” Gandalf told them. “Smaug had escaped to first Blessed Ones and survived for this long, and the Valar wanted to be sure he would be taken care of once and for all. That’s why you have more grace, Thorin. And as with the other Helpers before, the Valar wanted the two of you to be equal in power. So Bilbo had to be given more grace as well.”    

"Why didn't you tell us before?" Bilbo asked, slightly irritated. It would have been nice to know of this before they actually met each other as to avoid their explosive meeting and their intense conciliation.

"I thought I should wait until they two of you met to tell you." Gandalf then shrugged. "It wasn't that high on my list of priorities. I mean, it's nothing to worry about. Bilbo, you are simply going to be more aware of Thorin's control over heat." Gandalf switched his gaze to Thorin. "And you, Thorin, are going to be more aware of Bilbo's ability to make things grow. Those two things are hardly anything to lose sleep over."

Gandalf glanced back at Bilbo and went silent, smiling at him. Bilbo's ire piqued. "That's it?"

"That's it, Bilbo."

"Are you sure? You're not forgetting anything?" Because that couldn't possibly be all of it. Bilbo was feeling more than just a little heat.

"Yes," Gandalf seriously stated. "According to Aulë and Yavanna, you will feel heat, and Thorin will feel your ability to grow."

'No,' Bilbo disbelievingly thought. 'That can't be all.' If that was all, that would mean-no! He wasn't...attracted to that Dwarf. Not at all. Absolutely not. There was the chance the heat was affecting him this way. The heat was effecting his mind was all--something it was known to do. He was sure of it. Besides Thorin seemed completely unaffected. He wasn't admiring Bilbo like Bilbo was trying not to do. If anything, he appeared to be frustrated with everything that was going on and with Gandalf. It was just the heat muddling his mind.  

"What do we do now?" he found himself asking, holding onto that conviction.

Still smiling, Gandalf answered, "The only thing to do is spend as much time--"

"No!" the two for them shouted then looked at each other in surprise before focusing back on the Wizard.

"Like it or not that is the only solution. Either you spend time and allow your graces to get used to each other, or prolong the effect the two of you are having on each other. Which will it be?"

Thorin groan, but it sounded more like a growl. Bilbo was tempted to join him, but he sighed, defeated. If spending time with the Dwarf would end his suffering, then Bilbo would obliged. Besides, Dimia might be right, and Thorin wasn't as bad as he seemed. And it might not take that long, a day or two at most.

"Fine," Bilbo acquiesced.

"What."

Bilbo faced the prince again. "You heard Gandalf. This is our only solution. And I don't know about you, but I will love to feel like I'm not carrying a furnace with me all the time."

Bilbo could have sworn the Dwarf looked apologetic, and maybe he was. The air did cool a little around Bilbo.

Thorin sighed. "Fine. We'll all try and spend as much time together as we can until this...feeling dissipate."

"Excellent," Bilbo proclaimed, suddenly happier as something occurred to him. Gandalf said they needed to be around each other. He said nothing about it being just the two of them. With the revelation in mind, Bilbo smiled up at the prince. He could do this. With the heat would go the pull he had with this Dwarf. It was only a matter of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Semester starts on Monday, so updates will erratic. Bear with me. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.


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